Second Chance
by Charis77
Summary: Months have passed since Arthur's death and Merlin's grief continues. Until necessity summons him home to Camelot, and someone arrives who will change his life forever.
1. Heir

**Prologue**

Hunith weighed the letter in her hand as she stood indecisively in the doorway watching her son till soft earth. It had rained yesterday and he was taking advantage of it to tend his garden. Almost eight months had passed since he returned home, quiet, sullen, and in need of rest. She hadn't pressed him. Life for him had brought such pain and she understood his need to be left alone. But time had not healed her precious son.

Merlin had said he only came to visit her, but a week turned into two, then a month, then more. Letters began to arrive, worry over where he was. He never answered. She wrote back in his stead, making excuses. She understood. Camelot held too much memory and heartache.

Hunith sighed. Now, however, a letter had come that needed his attention and soon. He couldn't ignore it, no matter how he might wish to. She was reluctant to confront him. He'd suffered so over the last months. She could only imagine his pain, reliving his choices, wondering if he could have done it differently. But she could not allow him to live as he had any longer.

Hunith left the doorway, pacing into the bright sun. She stood at the edge of the garden. Merlin looked over at her, but didn't stop breaking up the softened ground. He smiled for a moment, then his countenance fell when he saw what she held in her hands.

"It's from Camelot."

Merlin turned away from her. "What does it say?" He had stopped reading the letters, preferring to hear their contents secondhand.

"Gaius needs you."

"He always does."

"This time, he needs your magic."

Merlin paused in his work. "I'm not going."

Hunith crossed the garden patch and gripped her son tightly by the arm. "You can't stop living just because Arthur did."

Merlin scowled at her. She'd never been so direct. He pushed out of her grip and went back to tending the ground. "I already fulfilled my destiny. There's nothing left to do."

Hunith crossed her arms and spoke softly. "When your father left and I found myself alone and with child, there was a time I considered leaving this world."

Merlin froze. He didn't look at her, but he was listening.

"It was a hard time. I faced raising a child without support, always alone, regarded with suspicion. I didn't think I could live that way...And then you were born." Hunith smiled as she remembered. "When I looked into your eyes, I knew I could endure. And I did." Merlin now looked over at her with tears in his eyes. "And you will, too." Hunith placed a hand on his shoulder. "There is more for you to do." She shoved the letter into his free hand. "Read it."

Merlin stared at her for a moment, then dropped his tool to the ground. He slowly unfolded the parchment. Hunith watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read, then widen, and finally take on a sense of fear. When he finished, he looked up at her. "I'll need a horse."

* * *

Merlin reined in his horse when the castle came into view. He forced himself not to turn around, chirruping at the horse to continue on. Memories of the last time he had traveled to Camelot weighed heavy—walking alone, tormented by failure and loss; Gwen running down the courtyard steps, questions in her eyes; telling her what her heart already suspected; passing into Gaius' chambers, the physician jumping up to greet him; retrieving his belongings and saying he was leaving for a time.

The horse passed the gates of Camelot and the soldiers guarding it nodded to him and then whispered to each other. He admonished himself for not coming incognito. Of course his presence would make a stir. He was the one who let the king walk into destruction.

He reached the courtyard and couldn't help but remember the execution he'd witnessed when he'd first set foot in it. It had set off a chain of events, most which caused heartache. There were times he caught himself wishing he'd never met Arthur; then his days wouldn't have felt so lonely and pointless.

"Merlin?"

Merlin halted as Leon came striding across the cobblestones. "Sir Leon." He bowed his head.

Leon reached up to grasp his wrist in greeting. "Just Leon. You of all people don't need to use titles."

Merlin tilted his head at such an explanation, but just nodded shortly. "Gaius sent for me." "Oh. Of course. He'll be with the queen. Come."

Merlin dismounted and Leon handed the reins of the horse to a servant, commanding him to take care of it. Merlin's heart ached. How many times Arthur had commanded him the same!

Leon led him through hallways thick with memory. Every corner held something that stabbed through the walls Merlin had attempted to build around his heart. He was so tired of the pain. Months had passed and grief was still an ever present enemy.

Leon stopped outside the queen's chambers. Merlin was relieved to see Gwen had not moved into Arthur's rooms. He didn't know if he could have managed to step foot in those. Leon knocked gently on the door. When it opened, Merlin felt unwelcome tears well in his eyes.

"Merlin!" Gaius enveloped him in a close hug. Merlin wrapped his own arms around the physician. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."

Merlin let Gaius go, blinking back his emotions at seeing the man he still regarded as father.

"I'm so glad you came."

"How is she?"

"Not well. I have consulted with the midwife and we've tried all we know."

"Why didn't you write me she was with child?"

"She didn't want me to tell you," Gaius said, his face reflecting he hadn't agreed with it.

Merlin's stomach twisted. "She didn't want me near another Pendragon," he whispered.

Gaius stared incredulously at the warlock. "No, that's not why. Merlin, she didn't want you to hope. You know how many children died."

Poor Gwen. Losing four babies before term. Of course. How could he have thought anything different about her? "Take me to her."

Gaius led Merlin into the room and to the queen's bed. Gwen lay unconscious. "I've sedated her. She's in much pain."

Sweat poured down Gwen's face even as she slept. Merlin reached out to her night clothes, but then looked up at Gaius. "Close the door." He didn't want to disrespect her modesty. Gaius ushered Leon out of the room and shut the door.

Merlin pulled up Gwen's night dress and stared at her full belly. He gently laid his hands on her abdomen. He frowned. It was stiff and hard. Even with all the time he'd spent as Gaius' apprentice, he had never assisted in a birth. He'd only seen his mother deliver two children. But he still knew immediately something was wrong. He took a breath and closed his eyes.

He felt a glimmer of life and the fetus squirmed away. Merlin sent calming waves through his hands and the child settled. He spoke gently to it in his mind, assuring it he was no threat. He examined its small body and then felt the thumping of its heart. There. Something was wrong in the rhythm. It was slowing. He snapped open his eyes. "She must deliver _now_."

"But the child can't be to term."

Merlin jumped up from the bed, rushing to the door. "If it does not come now, it will not have a chance to survive."

"Merlin, are you certain?"

Merlin turned on his heel and his face was so angry, Gaius stepped back. "I will _not_ let Arthur's heir die!"

Merlin opened the door and shouted for the midwife. She came, bustling down the hall. She stared suspiciously at Merlin as she entered. "I should have been called sooner," she grumbled.

"The queen is going to deliver."

The midwife sniffed. "It's not time."

Merlin ignored her and moved back to Gwen, placing his hands on her abdomen again.

"What is he doing?" the midwife snapped.

Gaius placed a hand on her arm. "Trust him."

Merlin felt the infant's life fading. He spoke a low incantation and Gwen's womb contracted. The fetus stretched. Gwen began to jerk on the bed. "Gaius!"

The physician put firm hands on Gwen's shoulders to hold her still.

"He's killing her!" the midwife shouted.

Gaius stared hard at the woman. "Be silent! He's saving her _and_ her child."

The labor progressed rapidly. Merlin keep his hands on Gwen's belly, hoping against hope the fetus survived the process. When the head crowned and the midwife drew the child out, it did not cry. Merlin let go of Gwen and snatched him out of the midwife's hands.

"You need to let me..." Gaius shut the midwife down with a fierce look.

Merlin held the limp infant against him along his right arm and placed his left hand on its chest. He weaved the fabric of magic around himself and the child. He spoke to the child with his mind, cajoling him, nudging him, awaking him to healing. He felt a flicker of life and held onto it, drawing it into the magic flowing through him, then sending it back into the tiny body. The infant jerked, squinted its eyes, and wailed. Merlin let out a pent up breath. The midwife took the infant from him, cleaning him and wrapping him in a blanket.

"Gwen," Gaius reminded Merlin.

Merlin stumbled back to the bed, tired by the energy he'd expended to save the child. He put his hand on her forehead. "She's alright. She needs to rest."

* * *

Merlin sat on a familiar bench in Gaius' rooms, elbow on a table, resting his head on his hand.

"Here," Gaius said. "Eat." He placed a meat pie before the warlock.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need strength," Gaius spoke warningly.

Merlin didn't respond.

"Merlin..."

"I _don't_ want anything, Gaius."

Gaius sighed and sat across from him, digging into his own pie. An awkward silence descended for a time, then Gaius spoke. "I never imagined you were so powerful now. To call out to life itself."

Merlin smiled slightly. "I haven't changed much. It's just a way of seeing. Before, magic just happened. Now I join its flow, let it speak to me, walk its path as a friend." He didn't add that when he was alone, it was him and magic and no one else to disturb its hold or take his mind away from it. Being here, he fought the walls blocking out the vibrancy of nature. He wanted his home and his garden thriving in life.

Gaius smiled at him. "You could use this knowledge. Teach it."

"I'm not staying."

"We all miss you."

"I can't, Gaius," Merlin whispered. "Don't ask me to."

The physician changed the subject. "How long did you stay at Avalon?"

Merlin shifted on the bench, the subject unwelcome. "A month."

"You don't know when the prophecy will come true."

"No," Merlin said. How long would Arthur endure the sleep of death? Sometimes he didn't believe what Kilgharrah had said. Arthur rise again? When and how? He'd camped on the shores of Avalon, every morning hoping to see a boat coming his way with Arthur at its prow. It didn't happen.

"Is your mother well?"

Merlin nodded.

Gaius reached out and covered Merlin's hand resting on the table. "It would distress Arthur to see you this way."

Merlin pulled his hand away from Gaius. He felt a lump in his throat. He coughed and rose from the table. "I need to check on the queen," he said softly, then bolted from the room.

* * *

Merlin slung his pack over his shoulders, making his way down castle halls, heading for the stables. He'd done what needed to be done. It was time to go. He made it to the main gate when pounding feet sounded behind him.

"Merlin! Merlin!"

He reluctantly turned. It was Leon again. He stopped in front of the warlock, breathing heavily. "The queen is asking to see you."

"I was just leaving," he turned to walk on.

"Merlin!" Leon's tone was harsh.

Merlin glanced back.

"She deserves better from you. She hurts, too. She misses him. And she needs you now."

Merlin firmed his jaw, but turned back to the castle, angry at how right Leon was.

* * *

Merlin knocked lightly on the queen's door. The midwife opened it and glared at Merlin. "He's here," she said regretfully.

As Merlin entered, Gwen commanded. "You may go, Mary." The midwife stomped out of the room and shut the door.

Gwen met Merlin's eyes. "She is still wary of magic," she explained apologetically.

As were many, Merlin knew.

Gwen held the baby swaddled in a blanket against her breast. "Thank you for coming. I owe you his life. And mine. I should have written you."

"You didn't have to," Merlin said quietly. Gwen turned her attention to her child. "I am happy to serve you. I wish you well." He turned to leave.

"Merlin, stop," Gwen called out.

Merlin looked back at her. Tears had appeared in her eyes.

"Don't leave me. He can't be here. I want him here so much. Only you knew him as well as I did. Please stay with me."

Merlin's chin trembled. He dropped his bag by the door and walked over to Gwen.

"Sit next to me," she pleaded, patting the bed.

Merlin climbed into the bed, sitting against the headboard.

Gwen rested her head on his shoulder. "He should have seen his son," she whispered. "I miss him so much." She began to shake as she cried.

Merlin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his own tears joining hers.

* * *

Merlin whispered softly to the babe in his arms. Gwen slept. She had refused to let him leave and banished the midwife any time she appeared. He had taken the baby from her so she could rest. Now he walked back and forth in moonlight streaming from a window. He paused to stare out at the full moon, so bright and strong.

"You have a son, Arthur," he whispered. "An heir." The baby stirred and Merlin rocked him gently.

"He'll need a guardian."

Merlin started at Gwen's voice and turned to look at her propped up on her side.

"He'll need someone to teach him."

"I'm not the one..."

"There is only one man Arthur would have chosen to raise his son."

Merlin considered the baby in his arms.

"Only you cared for Arthur as much as I. Please stay, Merlin. Stay for Arthur if not for me."

The baby stretched and yawned and his eyelids rose. Merlin met the child's eyes, and something unsaid passed between them. Grief and hope converged. And his broken heart began to heal.


	2. Guardian

**Part I: Prince  
**

"Carwyn, sit down!"

Merlin's shout went unheeded by the child zinging all over the room, wooden sword jabbing here and there. He jumped onto his bed. "Take that! And that!"

"Carwyn!" Merlin repeated.

The child paused, glancing at Merlin. His brown eyes twinkled. "It's a beautiful day! Let's go outside! We could go to the flower glade."

Merlin frowned at the boy. "It won't work." Arthur's heir knew his weakness for being outdoors where magic flowed strongest. Merlin picked up a parchment, flapping it at the boy. "You haven't completed any of your copywork and your mother will have my head if you don't learn _something_ today."

Carwyn snickered. "Mother wouldn't ever do anything to _you_. You're too amazing, Merlin."

"She'll do something to you if you don't get to it." Merlin laid the parchment back down. "You have your chores as well."

Carwyn rolled his eyes and began pacing the bed, swinging his sword at pretend enemies. "Why do _I_ have to do chores? None of the other noble children have to."

"Your mother doesn't want you to be an arrogant prat!" Merlin's eyes glowed gold as he swished his hand toward the boy. The sword leaped out of Carwyn's hand and hovered above him. The child hopped several times trying to reach it.

"Now, sit."

Carwyn slid off the bed, stomping over to his desk. He slumped into his chair and took up a quill, dipping it into ink. He scratched the quill over the parchment, eyebrows creased. Merlin lowered the sword to the bed, then considered his charge from behind. Carwyn was a perfect blend of his parents. He had Arthur's solid frame, but Gwen's gracious eyes; Arthur's energy, and Gwen's soft heart, though he would have balked if Merlin had suggested such a thing.

Merlin moved over to the child, gently patting his curly head. Carwyn jerked away. Merlin sighed. Why were children so difficult? Had he been this way for his mother? He smiled. He bet Arthur hadn't been an easy child. Uther had been lucky to foist him off on caretakers. Merlin's smile fell. He had been one of those caretakers. As much as he loved Arthur's heir, he missed his king more.

Merlin sat in a chair next to Carwyn, bothered by his brooding expression. This was more than frustration at having to study. "What is it?"

The quill stopped scratching. Carwyn swung his legs back and forth, a nervous gesture.

"Out with it." Merlin knew the boy too well.

Carwyn looked up at him. "Am I a great warrior?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows and couldn't help but smile. "At six?"

"I mean, will I be?" Carwyn's eyes pleaded for confirmation.

"I suppose if you study well and do all your chores, you might be."

Even Carwyn smiled lightly at his guardian's teasing. "Those don't make you great."

"They make you wise. A great warrior isn't just strong."

Carwyn kept pumping his legs. He fiddled with the quill and stared at the parchment. "Gareth said I'll never be as good as my father."

Ah, yes. Gareth. Merlin tried to keep his own anger out of his expression. Gareth was two years older than Carwyn and gave even Arthur as Merlin had first met him a run for his money. He had a penchant for hating the king's heir.

"He won again," Carwyn admitted in defeat.

The knights' sons often played at warriors, emulating their fathers. Merlin oversaw Carwyn's education and his work, but Leon and Percival had taken up his weapons training. Unfortunately, they were often busy and Carwyn didn't get as much training as the other boys.

"He's older. You'll get better."

"They tell stories about my father," Carwyn said quietly. "I wish I knew him."

Merlin couldn't help the mist that appeared in his eyes. He wished Arthur knew his son, too. _How proud you would be, Arthur!_ Seven years of waiting, and his friend hadn't returned. Of course, Albion hadn't been in any great need. Amata was antagonistic, Sarrum's successor as hateful as he towards magic. When Gwen proclaimed magic lawful, Mederic sent a message declaring Amata hostile to Camelot and threatening any of its citizens that dared cross their borders. Still, they maintained an uneasy truce and Merlin didn't see it breaking any time soon.

 _Is it wrong, Arthur, if I sometimes wish for evil times?_ Merlin rubbed at his temple. Seven years had been too long.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned his attention back to Carwyn.

"You miss him."

Merlin nodded.

"They tell stories about you, too. That you made my father a great man. You saved him."

Merlin felt his throat go dry. He hadn't saved him when it mattered most.

"It's alright. You have me."

Merlin smiled gently. There was Gwen's soft heart. "I do. And your father would be delighted with you."

Carwyn smiled, and he looked so like Arthur, Merlin's pain eased.

"Now, let's make your mother delighted as well." Merlin gestured to the parchment.

Carwyn's legs stilled as the quill meticulously flowed over the page.

* * *

"I wish you'd married, Gaius."

Gaius looked up from a mixture he'd been stirring. "I never knew you took such care for my romance."

Merlin smiled broadly. Despite his duties to Carwyn, he still found time to stop by and help Gaius. The physician's presence made him feel more whole and at peace. "Then you would have had children."

"I had _you_."

"But you didn't raise me from a child."

"No. Your mother had that unfortunate duty." He smiled mischievously and Merlin gaped in mock offense. "The prince giving you trouble?" Gaius leaned down to examine the liquid he stirred.

"He's not much trouble."

"Tell the cook. She talked my ear off about his antics."

"He just gets bored when he works in the kitchens," Merlin defended his charge. Goodness knows he'd been bored enough at times with all the tasks Arthur had assigned him.

"What trouble then?"

Merlin went back to grinding the dried herbs in front of him. "Other children."

"Ah." Gaius moved his mixture onto a flame. "Jealousy, then."

"I suppose there is some of that."

"He's a prince. He will attract those who either use him for their own ends or hold him at fault for his circumstances of birth."

Merlin continued grinding. "Then he can't really have friends. I don't think that's true."

Gaius looked pointedly at the warlock. "You were a gift to Arthur, Merlin, even if he didn't entirely appreciate you until his end. There aren't many with a heart like yours."

Merlin didn't look up, but flushed at the compliment. He'd seen Arthur as the gift, the friend who fulfilled both his destiny and conquered his loneliness. He spoke softly. "How do I counsel Carwyn then?"

"I'm sure you've faced your fair share of uncouth miscreants."

Merlin had. He recalled that in Ealdor William had been his one friend most of the time. He'd felt so isolated with his magic and the other children sensed something, avoiding him or taunting him. He'd tried to pretend away their treatment, but the hurt never went away. He didn't want Carwyn to suffer in silence as he had.

"My experience isn't helpful." Merlin shook herbs from a mortar into a bottle. "Carwyn is like Arthur _and_ Gwen. He has fortitude, ambition, but his compassion isn't regarded highly, not by most of the knights' sons."

Gaius nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm not sure you _can_ do much for the prince. Sometimes we have to learn to be who we are by experience and any amount of advice cannot change that."

Merlin contemplated Gaius' point-of-view as he crushed the next bundle of herbs. Maybe Gaius was right and he should let circumstances play out. But he'd never been good at doing nothing.

* * *

"You're walking away? Coward!"

Merlin halted at the jeering shout, recognizing the voice immediately. He peeked over the castle wall at a large grassy area several of the noble children played in. Gareth, already broad-shouldered and meaty at eight, stood pointing a wooden sword. Merlin spotted Carwyn moving away from the hulking child.

"You're not King Arthur's son!"

Carwyn stopped in his tracks. Merlin felt anger flare within his own heart as the prince turned.

"Take that back."

Gareth grinned. "You going to fight me?"

Carwyn stalked back to the older boy, brandishing his sword. Gareth whooped and held his sword aloft, then prepared for an attack.

 _He can't win_ , Merlin worried. Gareth outmatched Carwyn in height and skill. Merlin glanced around for anything to help the prince. There! A set of wooden crates the children must have been using for play rested nearby. Gareth wasn't too far from them. He could just move one a little closer...

Merlin stopped himself, Gaius' advice ringing in his ears. It wouldn't be fair. And it certainly wouldn't give Carwyn the chance to prove himself.

Carwyn thrust first, Gareth easily blocking. Carwyn attempted two more blows, but each swung too wide and were easily dodged. Then Gareth swung and caught Carwyn on the back. Even Merlin sucked in a breath as Carwyn yelped, but the prince turned and came back with more force. Gareth seemed taken aback by the prince's vigor, backing up. Merlin's eyes flicked to the crates. They were so close, it would be so easy to...

One of Gaius' constant lectures came back to Merlin then, that magic wasn't to be used for pranks, for taking advantage of someone, that the moment magic was used in such a way it was open to accusation. Merlin turned his attention back to the sword fight.

Gareth had taken the offensive now and Carwyn managed to block most of the blows, until one found its mark, thudding down on his right leg. Carwyn cried out and fell back on his rear. Gareth held the wooden sword to his chest. "I win as always."

The other children cheered and encircled Gareth, their continuing champion. Carwyn massaged his leg and Merlin could tell he was crying.

Merlin stared at Gareth's back. Who cared what he did. The child needed to be taught a lesson. He spied a waterskin placed on top of the crates. He stared at it, intending to send it flying, but shook his head, startled when it shot across the yard before he completed his spell. It smacked the back of Gareth's head.

"Who hit me?" Gareth cried out.

Merlin had the same question. He scanned the crowd of children. None of them were students of magic and they were all looking around as baffled as he. Only one child remained still, eyes wide in fear.

Merlin stepped back, breathing quickly, then turned and dashed away.

* * *

"Are you sure that's what you saw?" Gaius asked.

Merlin paced up and down in the physician's quarters. "No one else could have done it. His face, Gaius. He was terrified."

"But it's not possible."

Merlin flung out his hands. "It must be."

"Have you taught him any magic?"

"No, of course I haven't. Gwen doesn't want him to appear to favor magic wielders. Not yet anyway." Merlin stopped moving, replaying the scene in his mind. Only one child would have been so angry to attack Gareth, and only one child had seemed so stunned at what happened: Prince Carwyn.

"Then it cannot be the prince who did it."

Merlin shook his head, unconvinced, but also confused. Neither Gwen nor Arthur had any magic capacity. It made no sense.

A small knock sounded on the physician's door. "Come in," Gaius called out. The door creaked open to reveal the subject of their conversation, Carwyn looking pale and sheepish. He started when he saw Merlin.

"Oh. Merlin. I...I wanted to see Gaius."

Merlin didn't respond. He stared at Carwyn with suspicion.

Gaius stood and strode to the door. "Come in. I think maybe you need some healing."

Carwyn slowly nodded and Gaius put a hand on his shoulder to draw him inside. He directed the prince to a stool. Carwyn avoided Merlin's gaze.

"Where are your injuries?" Gaius asked.

Carwyn pointed to his right leg. "And my back."

Gaius knelt down to roll up the prince's pant leg. "Off with your shirt," he ordered.

Carwyn squirmed out of his shirt. Merlin felt his anger flame to life once more at the dark bruise forming on the prince's back. Another matched it on his ankle. Gaius examined each, then walked over to a shelf.

"Only bruises, nothing permanent." He picked up a bottle with clear liquid inside. "Sip this. The pain will lessen."

Carwyn accepted the bottle and sipped, then handed it back to the physician.

"What happened?" Merlin asked quietly.

Carwyn raised a reluctant head to Merlin. "Gareth wanted to fight again."

"Did you win?"

Carwyn shook his head.

Merlin's heart thumped uncomfortably. "Did anything else happen?"

"No." Carwyn bowed his head.

Merlin looked to Gaius, who moved to the other end of the room, pretending to busy himself. Merlin walked in front of his charge and knelt before him. " _Nothing_ else?"

Carwyn worried his lip. "I don't think so," he whispered.

Merlin placed a tender hand on the boy's knee. "You can tell me _anything_."

Carwyn's eyes welled with tears. "I get too angry. I think things and...and..."

"What?"

Carwyn spoke so softly, Merlin had to strain to hear him. "Sometimes, the things I think come true." He began to cry harder. "I think I've been cursed."

Merlin's heart broke. How long had Carwyn been hiding this? How had he not noticed before? And that the boy thought it was because someone had cursed him? What stories and rumors the children must have told each other about the evils of magic. Of course the prince was terrified. Curses had always led to death and destruction.

Merlin grasped Carwyn's shoulders and the boy fell into his arms, enveloping his guardian in a tight embrace. "Don't tell mother!" he gasped between his tears. "They'll send me away!"

Merlin wrapped his arms around the boy, his own eyes brimming with tears. Gaius eyed him from across the room, worry etching his face. Merlin didn't answer the prince. He had no choice. Gwen would have to be told. And she wouldn't be pleased.


	3. Cursed?

Merlin paced up and down outside the queen's chambers. Gwen was in council. He could have interrupted, but he wanted to see her alone and without the council's knowledge. He'd left Carwyn in his old bed off Gaius' room after settling the prince with a simple calming spell. The prince had fallen asleep and Merlin had asked Gaius to keep him there if he awoke.

Merlin started every time footsteps sounded at the end of the hall. Servants passed now and then, curiosity in the their faces as they wondered at his vigil outside the queen's door. He avoided the glances, too worried to pay them much heed. His relationship with Gwen was the closest of any in the court, but even he knew his news wouldn't be met kindly.

Gwen had specifically ordered him to keep his magical interaction with Carwyn to a minimum. It wasn't that she feared his magic; on the contrary, she was grateful for it and often commented on its usefulness. But she believed Carwyn needed to learn how to live a harsh world. She didn't want life made too easy for him—every need met and every hardship avoided. _Or every bruise healed_ , Merlin added as he paced. Merlin agreed her decision was wise, so he'd obeyed.

Along with not using his magic to ease the prince's way, Gwen had told Merlin not to attempt to teach her son any magic. Magic might be lawful in Camelot, but it was hardly universally accepted. Most still regarded it with suspicion and fear. Magic had been a source of pain for too many years; naturally, its people had a difficult time accepting it. Gwen didn't want to alienate the majority of the populace from the heir to the throne by making him a magic wielder.

Merlin brought a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temple. _But he is_. How would Gwen react when all she had determined for the life of her son had changed?

Footfalls came from the end of the hall again. Merlin recognized the swishing of a full dress. His eyes flashed gold as he threw his vision ahead and around the corner. Gwen. He drew in a long breath, standing tall with his hands behind his back.

"Merlin!" Gwen called out as she caught sight of him. She smiled as she approached, but when she observed his troubled expression, her own morphed into a look of concern. "Something's wrong. Carwyn..."

"He's alright," Merlin assured her, though he didn't define that by "alright" he meant physically. "But I do want to speak to you about him." Merlin opened the door to her room, letting her pass inside. He followed and shut the door behind him.

Gwen sighed as she fell into a chair in front of a fireplace. "Is he refusing his studies again?"

Merlin joined her before the fire, sinking into a chair on her left. "He tries," Merlin admitted. Gwen looked tiredly at him. "But he obeys me."

Gwen smiled contentedly. She reached out to grasp Merlin's arm. "You're the perfect guardian, Merlin. He loves you. He prattles on about you all the time." Gwen massaged her neck. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Merlin let out a slow breath. "Find someone else."

"No one else could raise him like you can." Gwen leaned back in her chair and contemplated the fire. "Sometimes I imagine Arthur with Carwyn. How he would have loved him! But if he can't have his father, I think you were the best choice." She coughed and wiped briefly at her eyes. She met Merlin's gaze. "Now, what do you need to discuss about the prince?"

Merlin swallowed uncomfortably, bracing himself. "I need to apologize."

Gwen let out a confused laugh. "To me?"

"I talked with Gaius and I think I caused something unintended."

Gwen's eyebrows knit. "What do you mean?"

Merlin stared into Gwen's eyes and forged ahead. "When the prince was born, I used magic to sustain his life."

Gwen nodded. "Yes. And I'm so grateful you did."

Merlin continued to gaze into Gwen's eyes. "I'd never done something like that before. I don't know if I can explain what I did... I drew on the flow of magic in the room, in myself. I pulled the prince's life into the magic, then...sent it back into him. I only meant to give him the strength of life."

Gwen tilted her head. "I know what you did," she spoke cautiously. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think I did something else. I...gave him magic."

Gwen stared in confusion. "Magic?"

Merlin squeezed the arms of the chair nervously and spoke quietly. "I saw him use magic today."

"Saw him...use _magic_."

"I talked with him. He's experiencing the beginnings of magic."

Gwen looked like the breath had been knocked out of her. "Carwyn...is a sorcerer?"

Merlin nodded.

Gwen shook her head. "No. You must be wrong. He's never displayed any magic skill."

"I don't know why it didn't show up until now. My own magic appeared before I could talk. Gwen, I know he has magic. I'm certain of it."

Gwen stood, striding several steps away.

Merlin stood. "He's scared. He thinks he's been cursed. But it isn't a curse."

"Isn't it?" Gwen questioned, turning back to the warlock with pain in her eyes.

"It isn't," Merlin insisted, offended by the implication that his very nature was a curse.

"Yes, magic can be wielded for good," Gwen spoke rapidly, "but even you know how many use it for evil. We can hardly keep track of the ways magic has been used for selfish ends."

Merlin knew Gwen and the council had their hands full enacting laws to punish misuses of magic.

"The people are still terrified of what magic can do."

Merlin firmed his jaw. "Magic saved Camelot at Camlann."

"I know that," Gwen snapped. "But _they_ didn't see it!" Gwen gestured towards her window. "To them, magic is an evil kept at bay for so long. Do you know how many seek my life for allowing it? How many claim Arthur would never have accepted it?"

Merlin tried to calm the anger building within him. "I know this puts you in an awkward position."

"It does more than that, Merlin. They'll never accept a king with magic. They'll accuse me of sedition, say I purposefully wanted a warlock on the throne and that's why I allowed magic. There will be rebellion."

Merlin understood every bit of what Gwen said was true. He knew he fell under suspicion as well, gossip making him the sorcerer who manipulated King Arthur, then got him killed so he could trick the queen into making magic legal. "You're right, but Carwyn still has magic, and I can't remove it."

Gwen's eyes had begun to fill with tears. "Are you certain you can't get rid of it?"

"Any spell I attempted could kill him. Gaius says the magic is too deeply rooted." Merlin paused, guilt weighing upon him. "I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Gwen brought her hands to her mouth. "He'll be in so much danger," she whispered.

Merlin moved towards the queen. "I won't let anyone hurt him." He put his hands on her shoulders. She leaned her head against his chest and cried quietly. Merlin held her around her waist, fighting his own emotions. What would Arthur have thought of this? Once again he'd interfered with the Pendragon family and brought suffering upon them.

Merlin held Gwen until she calmed and caught her breath. She pulled back from him and looked up a him with red eyes. "You must teach him not to use it."

Merlin released her and backed up, his gaze incredulous. "What?"

"No one can know he has magic."

All the years of pain and anger at not being able to be who he was came flooding back to Merlin.

"You hid it. He'll have to learn."

"No!" Merlin practically shouted.

Gwen looked surprised and stepped back. "Merlin..."

"It killed me to have to hide who I was from you, Arthur, the knights. I could never be who I really was."

"This is different," Gwen argued.

"You can't understand what it is to hide magic, to feel it pressing to be used and having to chain it day after day. Don't do this to him."

Gwen looked indecisive. "I have no choice. I can't reveal this to the people. Not now. Help him hide it."

Merlin glared at his queen and spoke lowly. "You know what it did to Morgana? If someone had told her, if _I_ had told her what was happening, had helped her be who she was, _let_ her be who she was, there might not have been a Camlann."

Gwen breathed quickly, the import of what Merlin was saying hitting her.

Merlin stood to his full height. He'd ever been the humble servant to Arthur and then to Gwen, but now he manifested the true authority he wielded. "I will _not_ teach Carwyn to hide his magic. I'll teach him how to use it wisely and for good."

Gwen stared at Merlin for a moment, then turned and strode to the fire, staring into its flames. After a time, she spoke. "I won't command you to go against yourself. You've always advised me well and been a good friend. I trust you."

Merlin relaxed, feeling a bit ashamed of defying Gwen so thoroughly. "I'm sorry I did this."

Gwen shook her head. "He would have died if you hadn't. I can't blame you for saving him." She turned her gaze to Merlin. "I won't make him hide the magic, but I can't tell the council or the people yet. This isn't the right time."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Gwen held up a hand to stall him. "I think it would be best if you took him away for a time."

Merlin recalled Carwyn's fears that he'd be sent away. He started to disagree, then stopped. Gwen was right. Time away would be best. Carwyn would have the space to understand who he was and what it meant for him without the pressure or danger of the capital. He nodded, acquiescing to Gwen's plan.

* * *

"Carwyn. Carwyn, my heart," Gwen whispered.

Merlin stood in the doorway of his old room, watching Gwen kneel next to his old bed. She laid a tender hand on her son's cheek and his eyes slowly opened. "Mother?"

Merlin noticed Gwen blinking back tears. _This is my fault._ He'd spent seven years second guessing all his choices, arguing with himself, trying to fathom out what might have been different. He could have killed Mordred as a child, but then he knew he couldn't have ever killed a child. Or he could have lied to Morgause so Morgana would have died of poison, but even then, the compassion of his own nature wouldn't be so cruel. He felt trapped by himself. Call it destiny or fate, he hated that so much of who he was had led to suffering. And now again his magic had brought pain. _Was_ it a curse?

Carwyn looked confused for a moment, then saw Merlin in the doorway. His eyes widened and he bolted upright. "You told her!"

Merlin felt the stab of the words, but met the prince's angry gaze.

"Don't be angry at Merlin," Gwen spoke calmly, turning Carwyn by the cheek to face her. "It was right to tell me and you know it was."

Carwyn bowed his head, tears unleashed once more. "I'm cursed."

"No," Gwen said firmly. She gathered her son into her arms, sitting on the floor and caressing his hair with hand. "No one cursed you. Do you remember the story of your birth?"

Carwyn nodded, his face buried in her side.

"You were dying, but Merlin saved you." Gwen pushed her son back to stare into his eyes. She wiped them one by one. "He used his magic. If he hadn't, you would not be here for me to love."

Carwyn breathed hard, his eyes locked on his mother's face.

"Merlin believes he gave you magic. He did not mean to."

Carwyn's gaze moved to the warlock with a look of betrayal.

"Listen to me," Gwen encouraged, moving her son's gaze back to her again. "You are not cursed. You can use magic for good, like Merlin. He'll show you how." Gwen hugged him to her. "I will miss you."

Carwyn pushed back from her. "You're sending me away!" He covered his face in his hands. "You don't want me here."

"My heart, I want you here more than anything, but you must go with Merlin. We do this only to protect you. This is best for _you_ and the kingdom."

Carwyn threw his arms around his mother. "I don't want to leave you!"

"I know," Gwen said, stroking his head again. "It's just for a time. You'll leave in the morning." She stood and set Carwyn on his feet as she did so. She leaned over to cup his cheeks in her hands. "I want you to be brave and make me proud. Now, go pack."

Carwyn stumbled away from his mother, staring sadly, making for the door. Merlin pulled back to let him pass. The prince didn't spare him a glance.

* * *

"You'll need warm clothes," Merlin said, retrieving a heavier shirt the prince had avoided. "It'll be cold at night."

Carwyn didn't answer. He kept dutifully folding clothes into a pack. Merlin laid the shirt on the bed, then went back to the wardrobe to find warmer pants to match.

Merlin had experienced magic from such a young age, but he still remembered the day his mother had sat him down when he could understand and explained that he had to stop doing the things he did. He hadn't quite understood why, but he'd loved her and would do anything for her. She didn't want him to, so he started suppressing the urges to use what he'd been gifted. Still, at times he couldn't help it, and his mother was forced to make up excuses for strange happenings. His control over magic grew, but he continued to suffer the loneliness of holding his magic back. So she'd sent him to Camelot and to Gaius.

Merlin let out a sad breath as he observed the glum prince. Even though he'd been frustrated at hiding his magic, he still loved it. Magic produced exhilaration—a heightened sense of the world and the joys found in it. Perhaps it was only destiny that made it seem a curse. What was Carwyn's destiny? Merlin hoped the prince's path didn't lead to as much pain as his had.

Merlin walked back to the prince's bed and handed him the pants. Carwyn took them, adding them to the pack.

"I think that's all you need," Merlin said. "I'll pack the other essentials."

Carwyn headed to the door.

Merlin followed and stalled him with a hand on his shoulder. Carwyn turned but didn't look at him. Merlin knelt to his level. "I had to tell your mother. It's not right to keep things from the people who love you the most."

"You did," Carwyn accused, face still turned away. "They say you didn't tell anyone until you went to battle at Camlann."

"That's true," Merlin conceded. "Magic was unlawful then. I would have been executed."

Carwyn began to move towards the door again. Merlin gripped his arm. "Carwyn. Look at me." Carwyn raised angry eyes to his guardian. "You can't tell anyone. Not yet. Not until we come home."

"Because they'll hate me."

Merlin regretted the prince's keen perception. "They won't understand a prince with magic. But we will help them understand. Just not yet."

Carwyn wriggled out of Merlin's grip. "I'll never tell anyone I'm cursed." He jerked open the door and Merlin heard his steps pound down the hall.

* * *

Merlin had just finished packing his own bags when a knock sounded on his chamber door. "Come in," he spoke quietly.

The door creaked open to reveal Gaius. "I brought you some medicines." He held out a bag to his former apprentice.

"Thank you," Merlin said as he took it, adding it to his luggage.

"It's not your fault, you know."

Merlin raised his eyebrows at his mentor.

"I've known you too many years, Merlin." Merlin sighed and sat on his bed. Gaius sat down next to him. "You have too pure a heart. I know you blame yourself for too much."

"And how many times did you scold me for my recklessness?"

Gaius chuckled. "I suppose one too many. Sometimes you did get it wrong, but most of the time, you didn't. You've had to make more difficult choices than any man. Don't torment yourself with this one. What would you have done differently? Let Arthur's heir die?"

"No," Merlin whispered. "I couldn't have done that."

"Then what's done is done. The prince will come around. Give him time."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully.

Gaius clapped him on the knee. "You gave Arthur time to change. His son is no different." Gaius rose and walked back to the door.

Merlin sat still in troubled thought. _I wish you were here, Arthur. You could tell me what you truly want for your son. I wouldn't have to do this alone._


	4. Magic

Merlin leaned comfortably against a fallen log, chewing on a piece of cheese as he watched Percival instructing Carwyn in the tricks of swordsmanship. The knight had become his closest friend after Gaius and Gwen. Their relationship had grown after Merlin returned to Camelot. Neither said anything, but they both knew what it was like to fail saving a good friend. Merlin smiled sadly. He missed Gwaine. Gwaine had always had the words to cheer him. And he had died so horribly...

Merlin took a breath and pushed memory away. He didn't want to feel the pain today. He turned his attention back to Percival and Prince Carwyn. He and Gwen had decided it would be best to travel disguised and with as few people as possible. Merlin knew he was capable of protecting Carwyn on his own, but Gwen had insisted someone else come along. Merlin suggested Percival and she'd agreed. They'd worn common clothing, hardly a change for Merlin who still hadn't seen a need to adopt noble attire, but the knight and prince looked quite different.

Percival shrugged in his shirt sleeves. Merlin grinned. The man hated his beefy shoulders being confined. It was a peculiar trait, but one that only endeared him more to the warlock. It was nice to know even someone so apparently strong had a strange quirk like everyone else. Percival moved deliberately across the clearing, meeting Carwyn's wooden sword with a stick as the prince followed his instructions. "There! You got it!"

Carwyn beamed at the praise. Merlin clapped a couple times for the young prince. Carwyn glanced at him and sobered. Merlin sighed inwardly. Two days of travel and he still hadn't been forgiven. He was trying to be patient, but Carwyn's attitude continued to remind him that the prince's circumstances were his fault.

Percival followed Carwyn's gaze and broke into a large smile. He brandished his stick. "Why don't _you_ try?"

"Me?" Merlin asked. "You know I've never been good at swordplay."

"I know," Percival laughed. "Come on. Just try me."

Merlin shook his head and laughed. "I could never win against a hulk like you."

"Chicken."

Merlin raised his eyebrows and jokingly clucked. He wasn't one to be goaded by juvenile insults.

Carwyn advanced on Merlin and held his wooden sword out. "Are you scared?"

Merlin shook his head. "I know when I can't win."

"You're scared."

"I'm _not_."

"Prove it."

Merlin stared at the prince's insolent eyes. Maybe this was his chance to show the prince his advantages. He took the wooden sword and stood, walking across from Percival who grinned widely and held his stick in readiness.

Percival slashed first of course, but Merlin deflected the blow. He knew he wasn't as good as the knight, but he hadn't learned _nothing_ all those years with Arthur. He blocked a couple more blows, then tried his own thrusts, but Percival met them deftly. The dueling picked up and Merlin found himself more and more outmatched as he barely blocked and never found an in. Percival knocked a mighty blow against the wooden sword and it tumbled out of Merlin's grasp. Merlin made to back up, but Percival dropped his stick and picked Merlin up, swinging him over his shoulder. Merlin could hear Carwyn laughing. This was his moment.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he incanted a spell. A vine from a nearby tree shot out and caught Percival around the legs. The large man tumbled to his knees and Merlin rolled out of his grasp and over the ground. He came to his feet, laughing at Percival who shook his head at Merlin's trick.

"You win," Percival conceded.

"You cheated."

Merlin's laughter stopped as he looked to the prince standing with his hands on his hips.

"It wasn't fair."

Merlin stared at him. "Why not?"

"Because...because..."

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"Because Percival doesn't have magic."

"I'm not a swordsman," Merlin countered. "It's fair for Percival to use his swordsmanship against me? But I can't use my magic?"

"It's just cheating," Carwyn spat out.

Percival, who had finished untangling his legs, stood up and turned to the prince. "If we were attacked, I'd want Merlin to use his magic. It's even better than a sword."

Carwyn looked chagrined as the knight took up Merlin's defense. Merlin moved closer to the prince. "You can use your magic to protect yourself and others."

Carwyn locked eyes with his guardian for a moment, then moved away to his horse, rummaging inside a pack for some food.

Merlin felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. "He'll understand some day. To be honest, Merlin, it took me a while to get used to the idea of you and magic. He has to get used to his own magic."

Percival walked towards his own horse to prepare for further travel.

Merlin kept his eyes on Carwyn. He wasn't sure how to help the prince except by showing him what magic could do, but the prince wanted none of it. He rubbed at his eyes, hoping someone wiser than he might have the answer he sought.

* * *

"Merlin!"

"Mother!"

Merlin embraced his mother tightly. He hadn't seen her in almost a year. She let him go and cradled his face in her hands. He smiled. She was still the same—kind, compassionate, and in many ways a kindred spirit. It was she who had always been on his side no matter the circumstances.

"If you'd said you were coming I would have prepared your favorite food!"

Merlin's smile broadened. " _Anything_ you cook will be fine."

Hunith looked over his shoulder. "You brought friends! Welcome, Percival!"

Percival nodded to Merlin's mother who he'd only met once before when he'd accompanied Merlin to Ealdor four years before.

Hunith walked around Merlin. "And Prince Carwyn. Welcome, my lord." She gave a little curtsy.

Carwyn bowed to her. "My lady."

Hunith looked back at Merlin, amused. Merlin smiled. Gwen had wanted Merlin to spend quite a bit of time teaching the prince manners and that respect included _all_ people, not just nobility. Sometimes Merlin thought Camelot didn't know how lucky they were to have such a fair and just queen.

Hunith smiled down at Carwyn. "I haven't seen you since you were quite small." Gwen had visited Ealdor when Carwyn was just a toddler, desiring a break from rule for a short time. It had been a good trip, one Merlin remembered fondly. This one, he feared, would be quite different.

"I don't remember you," Carwyn said honestly.

"You were too young," Hunith said. She looked back to Merlin. "You must be hungry."

Merlin nodded.

"We're starving," Percival said.

"Then come and eat."

* * *

Merlin relished the strain on his muscles when he dug into the earth with a shovel.

"You don't have to do that," Hunith spoke from her back door.

Merlin looked over at her. "I want to do it."

Hunith smiled shortly and moved into the garden, sitting on a barrel in the shade of the house. Carwyn had fallen asleep eating his dinner and his mother had insisted on picking him up and laying him in a cot herself.

Merlin went back to his work. Most days he missed this. Living in Camelot was fine, but there was something about using his hands to work the earth. Magic came alive when he participated in bringing forth new life. And he didn't even have to use a spell.

"So why are you here?"

Merlin continued digging, but smiled to himself. Oh, how he loved her! "You wouldn't believe I just wanted to see you?"

"You never were good at lying."

Merlin agreed with that. She ferreted out his mischief with ease when he was a child.

"Except when you hid your magic."

Merlin stepped back to assess the depth of the hole he'd dug, then picked up a cabbage plant. "I suppose if you're threatened with death, you can get fairly good at doing something you're not good at." And if you love someone enough. He'd known how important it was to her that he be safe.

"So...why did you come?"

Merlin laid the cabbage plant into the hole, then filled in the dirt with his hands. He stood and brushed his hands together, then walked over to his mother. He laid his hands on her shoulders. "I _did_ want to see you."

"And..."

Merlin sighed. He lowered himself on a short crate next to the barrel. He put his elbows on his knees and stared out at the green garden. If he'd stayed here, life wouldn't be so complicated. _And Carwyn would be dead._ He would have to accept complication.

"When I saved Prince Carwyn, I gave him magic." Merlin looked up to see his mother's reaction. Her eyes dawned with understanding. "I didn't mean to. It's just started to appear recently. Gwen says it puts him in danger. She wanted us to leave for a while."

Hunith's brow creased thoughtfully. "She's right. Sometimes travelers from Camelot pass through. There are those who voice their displeasure with the queen and her views on magic."

Merlin flung out a hand. "Gwen is the most fair, kind, just queen. I don't understand how they could think she has anything but their good in mind."

Hunith placed a calming hand on Merlin's head. "It's only been seven years. All the evil done by magic can't be forgotten so quickly."

Merlin rested his chin on his clasped hands. " _I_ did magic, too. I saved Camelot. Magic isn't always evil."

"Oh, my boy," Hunith spoke quietly, stroking his hair. "They must see much more good done before they believe. It's a sad truth that people don't trust easily what they can't see many times with their own eyes."

Merlin contemplated her statement, frustrated that he had to put up with people who wouldn't give him the benefit of the doubt even now that magic was lawful.

"What does the prince think of his magic?"

Merlin snorted in annoyance. "He liked mine just fine. His...he thinks it's a curse."

"What does he do with it?"

"So far he's only used it when he gets angry."

"Well, then, it must scare him."

"I know he's scared, but even when I show him how he can use it for good, he's upset at me."

Hunith moved her hand from his head to his shoulder. "You sound like every parent I've ever known, including myself."

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"It's sometimes hard to get children to hear you. Remember old man Dirgo?"

Merlin winced. "Don't remind me." His mother had warned him time and again not to trespass in the man's fields. He hadn't listened. It had long been a tradition of the children in his village to dare each other to cross the crotchety man's fields. Merlin had let himself be goaded. The result was being caught and thrashed soundly by the old man. _And even then, when I could have used magic to escape, I didn't_. He hadn't wanted to disappoint his mother further.

"You know what's good for him, Merlin," Hunith said. "But he can't see it himself. Think about Camelot. How much of its history comes from dark magic. The prince never thought he'd touch such a subject, not personally. Magic is fine for you. I'm sure the prince loves it. But for him...it's changed his whole world. He's no longer who he thought he was."

Merlin stared back into the garden, trying to imagine how it would have been for him to learn of his magic at an older age. Maybe it would have been hard for him to grasp. He'd just always been so used to it. His mind flitted back to Morgana and the dreams that had terrified her. The awakening of her magic had been horrifying for her. And Carwyn was so much younger.

"And children sometimes blame you for something, even if you did it in their interest. He doesn't know what magic means for him, and you're the one who put him in this position. It's only natural he's angry."

Merlin sucked in a long breath.

"I used to blame myself for your magic."

Merlin looked up at his mother, eyes wide in surprise. "You blamed _yourself_?"

Hunith nodded. "That I chose to love a Dragonlord. That you'd come to be for some unknown reason and that you had to suffer hiding yourself."

Merlin gripped her hand tightly. "None of that is your fault. It was destiny and there was nothing you could do about it."

"And what if _this_ is the prince's destiny? Will you blame yourself for what you cannot change?"

Merlin stared. Destiny again, the word that haunted him. "I can't believe I've never had any choice."

Hunith smiled sadly. "You have choices, but even some destinies are strong. And if that is true, Prince Carwyn is supposed to have magic. Perhaps he will be the key to true acceptance of magic in Camelot."

Merlin hadn't thought of it like that.

"The prince needs time and quiet. A place without the weight of future kinghood and the expectations of his people pressing on him. You were wise to bring him here."

Hunith stood and moved back into the house, leaving Merlin in quiet contemplation.

* * *

Merlin's eyes fluttered open and he realized he was shaking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself as Gaius had taught him soon after he first returned to Camelot. He hadn't suffered a nightmare in so long. He wiped sweat off his brow, trying to forget the raging storm in his dream and his desperate attempts to save a drowning Arthur.

He heard voices whispering in the next room. He sat up slowly when his shaking wore off. He rose and stepped gingerly over Percival who had insisted on taking the floor. When he reached the doorway, he saw his mother sitting on a bench before the fireplace, Carwyn next to her. He leaned against the doorframe, listening.

"He did that?" Carwyn asked.

Hunith chuckled. "Of course, I was surprised. No mother _expects_ her baby to make his own rattle float through the air."

Carwyn giggled. "I guess not."

Hunith sighed. "You know, magic isn't a curse."

Carwyn looked down at his knees. "Not for Merlin."

"Or you."

Carwyn shrugged.

"Well, you don't have to think about it right now. Tonight you can sleep, and how about tomorrow we just forget worrying about magic and play. There are many village children who would love a new playmate."

Carwyn didn't look up. "I can't...play."

"Princes don't play?" Hunith asked teasingly.

Carwyn looked up with a small smile. "Yes, they do."

"Oh. I was afraid you didn't think you were good enough to play."

"I like to play," Carwyn insisted.

"Then play with them."

"I'll hurt them," Carwyn whispered.

"Why?"

"Not on purpose. But, what if they tease me and I get angry? I've made things happen and..." He broke off, covering his face with his hands, elbows on his knees.

Merlin felt a catch in his throat. _Arthur, I'm sorry I did this to your son._

Hunith put an arm around the prince. "Don't worry. Worry doesn't change anything. You can stay with me tomorrow. Is that alright?"

Carwyn nodded.

Merlin pulled back into his room, retracing his steps over Percival. He perched on the edge of the bed, not quite ready to lay back down, unsure of another nightmare. _I'll fix this, Arthur. I won't let him live his life in fear._

* * *

Morning found Merlin and Percival eating a hearty breakfast and Carwyn being taught by Hunith to make her delicious sweet rolls. Hunith insisted on keeping the prince near her for the rest of the morning and Carwyn adamantly declared he'd stay with her. Merlin retreated to his garden, trying to let it relax him, but his mind was too troubled with the prince.

He knelt next to some potato plants, pulling up weeds. He wished he had his mother's easy way with children. On reflection, he knew his relationship with Carwyn _had_ been fairly easy until now. Magic had changed everything.

Merlin spent the rest of the morning enjoying the garden and its earth, taking breaks to lay flat on his back in the warm sun and let the vibration of life's magic embrace him. He was interrupted during one of his reveries by a shadow. He opened his eyes. His mother stood over him holding out a piece of meat secreted inside a roll of bread. "It's time to eat."

Merlin sat up, observing the sky. Afternoon, then. It didn't take him long to eat the roll. Hunith handed him an apple next. Merlin bit, enjoying the juice that burst into his mouth. Hunith walked back to the house, but stalled in the back doorway. She looked back at Merlin and gestured to him.

He stood, walking over to her. She pointed. Carwyn stood in the front doorway, head against the doorframe. The sounds of children laughing poured in from the path outside. Merlin walked inside the house to peer through the door. He grinned. Percival stood in the lane, half a dozen children gathered around him, and two hanging from each upper arm. He squatted up and down, and the children squealed in delight.

Merlin stepped up next to Carwyn. "Go outside and play," he said in the midst of chewing another bite of apple.

"You're not supposed to chew with your mouth full," Carwyn muttered.

Merlin nodded. So he'd been telling the prince for as long as he could understand.

"I don't want to play." Carwyn turned to wander back into the house.

Merlin followed him with his eyes as the prince meandered to a set of dishes and began to stack them. How many times had _he_ come home dejected from being called names or rejected from play? Home had been a safe place...but not the only one.

"Carwyn."

The prince looked slowly over at him, eyes wary.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"Just come."

"I don't want..."

" _Come_."

Carwyn let out a breath and followed Merlin out the door.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Merlin had led the prince into the forest away from the village. "You'll see."

"How much further?" the prince whined.

"We're almost there."

Merlin paused when he reached a mossy curtain hanging from a tall tree. Carwyn caught up to him. "Moss?"

Merlin shook his head. "I didn't bring you out here to see moss. It's what's behind it."

Despite his current feelings about Merlin, Carwyn seemed curious, peering at the moss.

Merlin pulled back the curtain and stepped through. Carwyn came after him. Merlin walked a few more steps and stopped in front of a small indentation in the earth filled with water and surrounded by mossy rocks. All around tiny white flowers bloomed in soft grass. "I didn't know if it would still be here," Merlin spoke quietly. But it was the same.

Carwyn ran his eye over the hidden sanctuary.

"Sometimes when I was angry or hurt or just tired, I'd come here," Merlin said. He sat down and pulled off his boots and socks, then rolled up his pants legs. He stood back up and slowly walked into the water. He stood knee deep, swishing his hands back and forth through the water. He turned to Carwyn standing uncertainly on ground.

He spoke a soft incantation and the water began to glow with a blue light. Merlin pulled his hands out of the water, and some of it came with them, floating just off his hands. He cupped his hands, then drew them slowly apart. A fish molded out of water drifted back and forth between his palms, the glow of the water making it look like the flashing of scales. "I learned to do this here."

Carwyn's eyes were wide. He'd seen Merlin do so many things, but this was so very different. Usually Merlin's magic was practical in nature. Yes, there were the fire creatures he created from flame, but the prince had seen those since he was a baby. This glowing, ethereal water in front of him and the crystal fish swimming back and forth caused him to gape.

"You can do it, too," Merlin said. He dropped his hands and the fish fell back into the water. "Do you want to?"

Carwyn's eyes darted here and there as he warred with himself. "I guess," he finally said.

"Come in then."

Carwyn took off his own shoes and socks and hitched up his pants. He stepped into the glowing water and gasped. Merlin reached out a hand to steady him. "It feels...it feels..."

"It's the magic," Merlin explained. He felt it, too, the glow he'd conjured pulsing through the water and up through his body. It was pleasant.

Carwyn stopped in front of his guardian.

"Close your eyes," Merlin said. Carwyn obeyed. "Calm your mind. Forget worry or anger. Just be here now. Let the shadow calm your heart."

Carwyn breathed deeply.

"Now, feel the magic in the water, how it flows up through you. Pull it up onto your arms and lift them above the water." Merlin smiled. "Open your eyes."

Carwyn's eyes opened. "Wow." His hands were encased in light, the water bobbing here and there as he moved them. "Can I make an animal?"

"That takes practice," Merlin said. "But we have time."

* * *

When the warlock and prince left their secret hideaway, Carwyn had managed a crude resemblance of a fish and Merlin felt relief. For the first time Carwyn had been able to use magic apart from negative emotion. They walked back towards the village in the silence of peace instead of anger.

What they did not see were the eyes following their return. Nor did they hear the carefully placed steps trailing them. And when they walked back into the village, they didn't hear the voice that whispered behind a tree.

"So, you've returned, Emrys. And you've brought the prince with you."


	5. Ghost

"Leoht." A sphere of light appeared in Merlin's hand, shooting luminous shafts into darkness. He drew his hand closer to his face and turned to Carwyn. "Now, you try it."

Carwyn sat next to him on a log, and Merlin could just make out his hesitant look in the glowing light. Carwyn took a breath and held his hand out. "Leoht." Nothing happened. "Leoht." Still nothing. A wolf wailed in the distance. Carwyn dropped his hand and stared into the forest.

"It's alright," Merlin assured. "He's not close."

Carwyn looked up at him. "You can see him?"

"I didn't look. I can tell by the sound. Now, the spell."

Carwyn held his hand out again. "Leoht." No light appeared. Carwyn blew a frustrated breath. "I can't do it. Why do I even have to use a spell?"

Merlin smiled softly. The last three weeks had been full of ups and downs. After the hidden sanctuary, Carwyn had been more amenable to learning magic, but even then, resistance sometimes reared its head. And although he'd managed to finally play with the children in the village, he never used his magic around them. Merlin had become keenly aware that the more he taught Carwyn to use his magic, the more different he became. He guessed the prince sensed this, too, even if he couldn't put it into words at such a young age. Vocal spells would make it even more obvious the prince had magic.

"Magic is far more will, than voice," Merlin reminded the prince. "Some things are easy; others take more concentration. Spells help you focus your mind and direct the magic. Try again."

Carwyn stared hard at his outstretched hand. "Leoht...Leoht." The wolf howled again, and Carwyn pulled his hand back, eyes locked on the forest.

Ah. Merlin understood. "You're too afraid to concentrate."

"What?" Carwyn looked back at him. "I'm not afraid."

Merlin stood. "Let me tell you a story. Come here." He walked farther into a clearing and Carwyn followed, though his gaze still darted to the forest. Merlin lay down on his back.

"Um..."

"Lie down."

Carwyn took one last look at the forest, then did as he was told.

"You see the stars? Just look at them."

Carwyn stared up at the velvet sky twinkling with heavenly jewels.

Merlin extinguished his light as he began his story. "My first year in Camelot, a griffin attacked us."

"I've heard this. Sir Lancelot killed it."

Merlin smiled in the dark. "Many think that. And he did have a part in it. But that isn't the whole story."

"What really happened?" Carwyn's interest was piqued.

"Gaius told me it could only be killed by magic. He found a spell and wanted me to learn it to enchant a short sword to kill it. I tried and tried, but I couldn't do it."

" _You_ couldn't?"

"I was too worried about your father. Worried if I didn't do it, he'd die when he went to fight it. I couldn't concentrate enough."

"What about Lancelot?"

"He went to off to fight it, and I joined him. The griffin had defeated all the knights, including your father. Lancelot bravely attacked the griffin with a lance. At that moment, I knew I _had_ to enchant the lance or he would die. So I did it. I said the spell and the griffin was killed."

Carwyn rustled next to Merlin as the wolf howled again.

"I had to forget worry and fear. It can be difficult, but in doing so, you will find yourself braver. Look at the stars and draw on the courage I know is within you."

Carwyn held his hand aloft, his eyes on the stars. "Leoht." A long breath. "Leoht!" A ball of light glowed in his hand.

"You did it!" Merlin exclaimed, sitting up.

Carwyn sat up as well. He grinned in the light.

A menacing growl drifted across the clearing. Carwyn's light shook and went out as he looked up. The wolf had appeared.

"They don't usually attack," Merlin muttered. "Unless they are desperate for food." He stood slowly. "Mearcwerd aflieh!"

The wolf turned and fled into the night.

"There's a ghost."

Merlin looked down at Carwyn. "Leoht." A light popped into his hand again as he knelt down next to the prince. "A ghost?"

Carwyn nodded solemnly. "A ghost beast. It comes out at night to eat people in the forest."

Merlin stared doubtfully. He wished he could say there weren't ghosts, but he'd faced enough in this world to know that was a lie. "Who told you about it?"

"My friends."

"Did they see it?"

"Not them, but Timon's father did." Carwyn glanced around them in fear.

Merlin tried not to chuckle. He didn't want Carwyn to feel he didn't take him seriously. But people were often superstitious, even more so after magic was made lawful and easier to blame for unknown happenings. "Don't worry. I'll protect you." He laid a hand on Carwyn's shoulder. "I promise."

* * *

"Good morning!" Hunith called out.

"Unh," Carwyn intoned as he slumped onto a stool at the table. "Merlin _made_ me get up. Doesn't anyone ever sleep late around here?"

A hand ruffled Carwyn's hair. "I rose with the sunshine almost every day of my childhood." Merlin took a seat across from the prince.

Carwyn glared at Merlin. "Why?"

"Too much to do," Hunith said from a counter. "Chores, schooling, candle making..."

"And chores," Merlin said again. "And more chores. And some more." He grinned at his mother, who smiled back.

"Well, I only had one son, so..."

Merlin nodded. "So..." He caught Carwyn's eye. "Consider yourself lucky to live in a castle."

"But _you_ and mother make me do chores."

"Yes, and they're nowhere near what I had to do here or for your father."

A loud yawn sounded. Percival stomped to the table and sat down. "Chores. I hated them. I just wanted to play."

" _See?_ " Carwyn said.

"But I still did them." Percival smiled jovially.

"Ugh. No one ever listens to me," Carwyn grumbled.

"Sometimes we do," Merlin insisted. "Like today. No spells. No learning. You get a day off."

Carwyn cocked his head. "I do?"

Percival shook his head. "He didn't remember."

"What?" Carwyn asked, looking confusedly at the beaming adults.

Hunith stepped up to the table and set a plate before him. A fragrant spice cake lay upon it.

"Your birthday," Merlin said.

Carwyn's face grew into a grin. "I forgot."

Merlin had assumed so. Every year previously the prince had awaited his birthday with anticipation, but so much had happened recently—the discovery of his magic, the travel to Ealdor, learning with Merlin. Time had passed unobserved by the child.

"So," Hunith said, taking her place at the table. "Eat and then play. You're free today."

Carwyn dug into the spice cake, eating like his life depended on it.

* * *

Merlin retreated to his room after breakfast. Carwyn had run off to enjoy his day. Percival declared he wanted to make sure the village was safe, though Merlin didn't buy the lame excuse for a moment. He'd noticed the knight eying a particular woman throughout their stay. Hunith had set herself to her tasks as she had since he was a child.

Merlin retrieved his travel bag from under his bed. He unfastened the clasp and withdrew a large and heavy object. He laid in his lap, a tender hand running over its worn leather surface. So long ago, Gaius had gifted this to him, a secret tome that need not be secret anymore—his grimoire.

"You've been good to me, old friend," Merlin spoke quietly. "But it's time you enlighten someone else."

Merlin folded his arms over his chest. He'd brought it along in the hope that Carwyn would accept his magic. Acceptance had begun. He meant the gift to encourage the prince and not scare him. Merlin smiled to himself. If it did scare him, he'd just tell more stories like the griffin, relying on the prince's thirst for adventure.

Merlin sighed. _He's learning, Arthur. He won't be scared of magic. And he'll make you proud, I promise._

* * *

"Merlin! Merlin!"

Merlin jumped to a stand from the vine he'd been pruning. Carwyn was dashing toward him. "Are you hurt?" He rushed to the prince.

Carwyn shook his head vigorously and spoke between breaths. "No...I'm fine...We saw it."

"Saw what?"

"The ghost beast!"

Merlin stared skeptically.

"I mean it! It was huge, and it ran away. We followed it. It's in a cave. Rolft and Sisley said they'd go in to find it, but they came back out fast and said couldn't, but I think they were scared."

"Are you sure..." Merlin began to say, but Carwyn tumbled on.

"When I saw it I felt, I don't know...But...I want to find it."

Merlin gazed warily at the prince. "You want to find a ghost?"

"I don't think it is."

"Oh. So now there isn't a ghost."

" _Merlin!_ " Carwyn shouted exasperatedly. "I _saw_ it. It looked real. Come on, let's go." He grabbed Merlin's hand pulling him across the garden.

Merlin pulled back and stopped the prince. He must have seen _something_ and Merlin had grown concerned there really was a large and potentially dangerous beast in the forest. "You don't just go after a beast without knowing what you're up against."

"It won't hurt us," Carwyn stated matter-of-factually.

"And how do you know that?"

"I just know it." He began to drag the warlock again.

"Carwyn," Merlin reprimanded. "This isn't the way to do this."

Carwyn let go Merlin's hand and stomped his feet. "You never _do_ listen to me! I thought this was my birthday and I got to do what I wanted."

"That's not exactly..."

"Well, I want to find it. It ran away. It didn't go after us. It won't kill us."

"How huge is huge?" Merlin asked, recalling Carwyn's description.

"Not _that_ huge."

Merlin tried to gauge the boy's truthfulness.

"Are you scared of it? You told me you faced a griffin."

Merlin shook his head, smiling slightly. "I'm not scared, but I do want to keep you safe."

"Fine. Then I'll get Percival to come with me." Carwyn jolted forwards, but Merlin pulled him back with a firm grip on his shoulder. "Mer—"

"Let me find Percival. We'll go together. And _you'll_ stay behind us."

* * *

 _Why did I let him talk me into this?_ Merlin chided himself as he crept through a dark cave, his hand alight. Percival crouched next to him, torch in one hand, drawn sword in the other. _He's so like Arthur_ _—_ _running off to get himself into trouble, and I have to come along to make sure he doesn't kill himself._

Carwyn's short steps sounded behind them. "Do you see anything?"

Percival answered. "No."

"Stop asking every few feet," Merlin muttered. He waved his hand back and forth, peering deep into the darkness. "You still have your light?"

"Yes," Carwyn answered, a hint of pride in his voice that he'd held the spell for so long.

"What's that?" Percival asked, pointing downward with his sword.

Merlin knelt to the floor. "Bones."

Percvial spoke from above him. "Human?"

"Animal."

Percival leaned down to speak close to Merlin's ear. "Do you really think we should be doing this? Gwen will kill us if she ever finds out."

 _She probably would. Or come close to it._ "Carwyn, we should go back..."

A series of clucking noises from the prince echoed in the cave.

Merlin met Percival's gaze. "I wish you hadn't called me a chicken," he said, referring to their sword-fighting match as they'd traveled to Ealdor.

Percival shrugged. "Well, _I'm_ not a chicken so..."

A deep-throated growl bounced off the walls of the cave. Both men turned their eyes to the dark; Percival thrust his torch out at the same time Merlin did his hand.

"Carwyn, stay here," Merlin commanded.

"But..."

" _Stay!_ " Merlin looked back with the most furious gaze he could muster.

Carwyn nodded.

Merlin and Percival moved slowly forwards. Merlin's brow creased. Something reflected their lights, something white, something large...Merlin gasped. Percival stopped at his side. "What?"

"Get back," Merlin ordered the knight.

"Merlin..."

"Do it."

Percival stepped a few feet behind him.

Merlin shook his head. How was _she_ here? He had tried to call her twice after the battle of Camlann and she hadn't appeared. He had thought she was dead. He moved ahead alone and halted in front of a face he hadn't seen in seven years. "Aithusa," he breathed out.

She had grown larger, but still much smaller than the only other dragon he'd known, Kilgharrah, whom he'd never called since the day of Arthur' death. She was paler than last he'd seen her. Scars ran the length of her body, and her wings were tattered. Merlin's heart thumped wildly. What had happened to her since the battle? What more had she endured?

"I tried to find you," Merlin whispered as he stepped forward.

The dragon reared up on her hind legs and spit out a flame of fire. Merlin blocked it easily. Percival and Carwyn shouted his name at the same time Merlin cried out in dragon tongue. "Diakopte!"

The fire continued. Merlin stared hard at the dragon and shouted louder. "Diakopte!"

The flame began to shake. Aithusa shuddered as if she might break. Merlin's eyes grew wide in understanding. _She's fighting me!_ He didn't know what would happen to a dragon who disobeyed the commands of a dragonlord.

He shouted as loud as he could. " _Diakopte!"_

The jet of fire trembled, sputtered, and stopped. Aithusa screeched sharply, backing away from him until her tail collided with the back of the cave. Merlin stared in horror. Livid red burns streaked Aithusa's sides.

"You hurt her!" Carwyn shouted accusingly. Merlin looked back at the boy who stood next to Percival.

"I told you to stay where you were!"

"How could you hurt her like that?"

Merlin frowned. Wait... " _Her?_ " How did he know? "Percival, take him outside."

Percival laid a hand on Carwyn's shoulder, but the prince shook him off and darted forwards.

"Carwyn!" Merlin shouted as the prince careened passed him. He reached out to grab the prince, but he missed. His eyes glowed gold as he made to pull the prince back, but Aithusa bounded forwards and the two met.

Aithusa crumbled to the ground in front of Carwyn. Carwyn put a hand on her snout. "I'm sorry. It's alright. _Ei_ _sai asfalis_."

Merlin gaped.

Percival stepped up next to him. "Did the prince just...did he..."

"He's...a dragonlord," Merlin stammered. He couldn't have given Carwyn such magic. It didn't work that way. It couldn't work that way, could it? _Just how powerful_ am _I now?_


	6. Dragon

Merlin sat next to Percival, their backs to a cave wall. Carwyn and Aithusa were a few meters away, the prince kneeling before her, stroking the head she had laid in his lap. Merlin stared in disbelief.

"I don't know how I passed the ability on to him," Merlin whispered. "A dragonlord only becomes one when his father dies."

"Well," Percival said thoughtfully. "You aren't his father."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Not directly, I mean. And Arthur is dead, so...maybe the rules didn't hold?"

Merlin burned to talk to Gaius. When he had left the Crystal Cave before the battle of Camlann, he had connected to the deeper magic of the world and had used it to augment his power. He hadn't suspected he'd be able to do things like save a dying infant by passing his skills onto him. _It's like I'm making up my own rules of magic_. The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

Merlin watched Carwyn lean down to the dragon's head and speak into her ear. He had no idea what the boy had been telling her. Every time he tried to get close enough to hear, Aithusa screeched or shied away. She was only docile for Carwyn.

Merlin kept glancing along her sides at the burn marks she'd sustained from disobeying his commands. He had come to an uncomfortable conclusion—the scars and shredded wings were his fault, even if inadvertently. He had called her twice after the battle of Camlann, desiring to help her. When she didn't come, he could only think she had died. And he'd suffered another loss, thinking himself a dragonlord without the kinship of a dragon.

 _I called her, and she resisted._ He couldn't imagine what it had taken for her not to answer him.

Merlin leaned his head back against the cave wall. _I failed her_. When he had named her, calling her forth, he had assumed Kilgharrah would see to her. _I was inexperienced and naive._ How he wished Balinor had lived to explain and instruct him in the ways of dragons! He could have taken more of a hand in raising her, but he'd been so focused on Arthur and his destiny, everything else had paled in comparison.

"Don't dragons have to listen to dragonlords?" Percival asked.

"They're supposed to."

"Why didn't she listen to you?"

Merlin swallowed hard. "She doesn't trust me."

"Why?"

"I ordered her to abandon her closest friend."

"Morgana," Percival stated succinctly.

Merlin nodded.

"Good riddance," Percival spat out.

"Aithusa isn't evil," Merlin insisted. "She gave her loyalty to the person who took the most care of her." _It should have been me._

"Morgana? Care for anything?"

"Just because she hated Arthur doesn't mean she didn't have the capacity for love."

"How can you defend her?" Percival's voice rose above a whisper and Merlin bobbed his hand for a return to quiet.

"I'm not defending her," Merlin said, looking the knight in the eye. "But people are rarely entirely evil or entirely good...Not even you." He spoke the last lightly to relieve the tension of the moment.

Percival smiled a little. "I get your point, but Morgana...I'll never do anything but hate her."

Merlin understood the knight's pain, but he had long ago given up the pointless exercise of hating the dead. Guilt, on the other hand, was far less easily vanquished.

Merlin turned his attention back to Carwyn. There was so much more to teach him now. Carwyn had lain down on the floor and laughed as Aithusa rubbed at his belly with her snout. He still couldn't fathom how the dragon had become instantly attached to the prince. Carwyn had said he'd been sure the ghost beast wouldn't hurt them. He must have sensed it, but how?

Merlin spoke lowly to Percival. "We need to move her. The children know about the cave. If the villagers come looking for a monster and they find her..."

"She's dead."

"Or they are. I need to tell Carwyn. Go outside and guard the entrance. If anyone does come, distract their interest."

Percival stood along with Merlin. The knight made for the cave entrance as the warlock turned to the prince.

"Carwyn."

Carwyn sat up and looked to Merlin. Aithusa cowered at Merlin's voice.

"We need to get her out of the cave."

Carwyn stood, anger flashing across his face. "You _need_ to heal her."

Merlin stared doubtfully. "I would if I could."

"Try."

"She won't even let me near her."

"Why did you hurt her in the first place?"

"I didn't mean to. I didn't know a dragon could disobey a dragonlord."

Carwyn's expression grew solemn. "Am I...a dragonlord?"

"Yes," Merlin confirmed. "I think that's my fault again. I didn't know I gave you such power."

Carwyn looked back at Aithusa. "I don't think it's bad."

 _Well, at least there's one thing he accepts immediately._

"Dragons aren't pets," Merlin warned. "They are free beings. We call and command them only when we must." At least, that's the way he felt it should be. He'd never been taught a list of rules regarding relationships with dragons.

"Please heal her."

Merlin sighed and turned his attention to Aithusa. He stepped forward. "Epitrépste mou na sas therapéfso." Aithusa backed away and snarled. Merlin stepped back. He had no wish to hurt her more than he already had. He looked at Carwyn. "You will have to."

"Me?" A look of fear graced Carwyn's face.

"She'll let you."

"But...but...I don't know how...I'm not any good at magic."

Merlin let out a long breath. "I'm not even sure she _can_ be healed. I've never tried to heal a dragon. They're more powerful than even me and if she can't heal herself..."

Carwyn's eyes had grown moist. "I want to help her."

"Alright," Merlin spoke, determined. "Then listen and repeat after me: clawung awanap." The spell wouldn't heal her completely, but it was the easiest one Merlin could think of that Carwyn might have the hope of completing.

"Clawung awanap," Carwyn repeated.

"Yes. Walk up to her and put your hand on her side. Concentrate. Let your will focus on what you want to do."

Carwyn lay both hands on the dragon. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly a few times. His voice came out in a gentle whisper. "Clawung awanap."

Aithusa melted to the floor and her eyes closed as if she felt immediate relief. Merlin marveled. "You did it. The first time."

Carwyn glanced along her sides. "She still has burns."

"But they don't hurt her," Merlin said. "It's the best we can do for her right now."

Carwyn nodded reluctantly.

"Now, tell her to follow you. We have to leave."

"Akolouthise."

Aithusa rose from the floor, and Merlin turned to lead the prince and dragon outside.

* * *

"How can I speak dragon?"

Merlin looked down at the prince who walked beside him. Aithusa trailed them. Percival had scouted ahead, searching for a safe place where the dragon could reside.

"I'm not sure how it works," Merlin admitted. "When my father died, I just knew how to command Kilgharrah."

"I know I'm speaking another language," Carwyn said. "But, it's like I don't really hear it."

Merlin smiled. "That's what it's like for me, too."

"Are there any other dragons?"

"Aithusa is the last of her kind as far as I know."

"Oh." Carwyn's face fell.

"Which is why we need to treat her well and help her."

Carwyn didn't look at him. "She's angry at you."

Merlin nodded sadly. "She had a bond with Morgana and I was responsible for Morgana's death."

"Morgana?" Carwyn looked back at Aithusa. "Why would she trust _her_?"

"It's a sad story," Merlin said. "Aithusa found Morgana and out of compassion healed her. They were drawn together. And then they were both captured and imprisoned. I can't imagine what they went through." _If I had tried to find Aithusa, maybe I would have found Morgana. If I had rescued them both, would Morgana have changed?_

"But...Morgana was evil."

Merlin sighed as he had to address this issue for the second time. "That's what you'll hear in stories, but I knew her before she became evil's pawn. She was kind, compassionate, even loving. But hardships can change people as well as those who wish to use them. You know Morgause?"

Carwyn nodded earnestly.

"Morgause twisted Morgana's loyalties." Merlin felt a pang of guilt. He didn't mention it must have been even easier to do so after he had poisoned her. Merlin cleared his throat and spoke on. "Aithusa did not become loyal to evil. She became loyal to the person who helped her. Now _we_ have to help her."

"I will," Carwyn said decisively.

Merlin looked back at Aithusa. _I hope so._

* * *

Percival found another cave larger and more comfortable than the first. Carwyn led Aithusa into it, explaining to her why she had to stay there for her safety. They spent a little more time with her, but Merlin didn't want to arouse suspicion. He promised Carwyn they'd return the next day. On the way back to the village, he warned the prince not to let anyone know about the dragon, not even his mother.

When they entered the house, Hunith smiled at them. "You've been gone all day!" She lay down some cloth she'd been sewing and stirred a pot over the fire. "Gallivanting all over the countryside?"

"Something like that," Merlin said as he stretched his arms over his head.

Hunith stood, striding over to the three. "Where have you been?" She rubbed at Merlin's forehead. "You're covered in filth."

"Nowhere!" Carwyn blurted out.

Hunith narrowed her eyes at Merlin. Merlin stared blankly back, but he knew she saw right through him. "Well, wherever you've been, all three of you need a wash up. Go out back to the water barrel."

Merlin handed Carwyn a cloth and made sure he looked presentable before sending him back inside with the command to change clothes. He leaned over the barrel with Percival, washing his own face and neck. Percival looked sideways at him. "Your mother knows we're up to something."

"She knows," Merlin grinned. "But she'll leave it alone unless I tell her."

Percival smiled. "She's a good woman. Reminds me of my own mother."

Merlin smiled broadly. She _was_ a good woman. He'd always been lucky to have her.

* * *

Dinner was a quick affair. Hunith smiled in amusement as her guests ate voraciously. After Merlin helped her clear and wash the dishes, she gave him one last penetrating look, then offered to help Carwyn get ready for bed.

Merlin returned to his room to find Percival already snoring and sprawled out on his pallet. Merlin retrieved the grimoire from his pack. He cradled it to his chest as he moved around Percival back to the living area.

Hunith was just passing and stopped to lay a hand on his chest. "A mother always knows."

Merlin let out a soft laugh. "I can't tell you."

"I know. But I trust you to tell me when you need to."

Merlin nodded, watching her retreat to her own room. He looked to Carwyn's cot set up in a corner of the living area. His eyes were still open, bright and staring at the ceiling. Merlin wished he could read the boy's thoughts. He picked up a candle on the table as he walked over to the prince.

"I want to show you something."

Carwyn turned his head to the warlock. Merlin lowered himself next to the bed and held out the grimoire. "What is it?" Carwyn turned over and propped himself up on one arm.

"Gaius gave this to me. Many sorcerers have written in it, adding their knowledge. I know it all by heart now, and I want to give it to you."

Carwyn sat up, then slipped to the floor next to Merlin. Merlin opened the book and Carwyn touched one of the page's beautiful gilded drawings. "Is the spell that helped Aithusa in here?"

"Not that one. That one is simple. Most in here are more complicated."

Carwyn turned several pages, running his eyes over each one. "Tell me about them."

Merlin smiled. He hadn't imagined that Carwyn's connection to a dragon would be the breakthrough he'd need to give the prince a thirst for magic. He turned back to the first page and started explaining. Sometimes as he read, he told stories of when he first used the spells. He'd read through several pages when he felt a weight on his arm. The prince had fallen asleep.

Merlin quietly closed the book and lay it on the floor. He shifted gingerly to pick Carwyn up in his arms, and then laid him in the cot, tucking the blanket under his chin. He paused a moment, staring at the boy in the candlelight. His breath caught in his throat as a thought came to him: _I'm not alone anymore._ For the first time in his life, someone besides himself was learning what it meant to be a sorcerer and a dragonlord.

"I know it won't be easy," he whispered to the sleeping child, "but I'll be here for you. I swear, Arthur, he will never walk alone." He leaned down and gently kissed the top of Carwyn's head, then departed after sliding the grimoire under the cot.

* * *

Two more weeks passed. Carwyn insisted on seeing Aithusa every day, so Merlin forewent his mornings in the garden and instead spent them with the prince and the dragon. Aithusa continued to shy away from Merlin, but Carwyn made remarkable progress. Merlin taught him spells while the dragon watched on. Several of them were intended to heal Aithusa. Unfortunately, nothing they tried removed her scars or fixed her wings. But other spells succeeded, those that soothed her mind. And little by little, she became accustomed to Merlin's presence.

Finally, one day after a rather long teaching session, Carwyn spent some quiet time with Aithusa, laying next to her and talking softly to her. Merlin enjoyed simply sitting against a tree watching them. Theirs was such a tender relationship. His relationship with Kilgharrah had been close, but pragmatic for both of them. Leaning against the Great Dragon and having an intimate conversation wouldn't ever have occurred to him. Perhaps what Carwyn had with Aithusa was how it was supposed to be all along, dragonlords and dragons, kindred spirits and close companions.

Carwyn abruptly sat up and met Merlin's gaze. "She'll let you touch her."

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"I talked to her. She's ready."

Merlin rose and approached slowly. Aithusa's striking blue eyes were wary, but she didn't move away. He knelt down next to Carwyn and held out a hand. Aithusa nudged it with her snout. Merlin let his hand rest on the tip of her nose. She blinked a couple times and then pushed passed his hand into his chest.

Carwyn grinned up at his guardian. Merlin couldn't help but grin back. Aithusa seemed to enjoy their interaction as she let out a soft twittering sound.

Merlin looked to her, his eyes suddenly wet. He rubbed back and forth on her snout. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Aithusa rested her chin on his knee and Merlin laid a hand on the top of her head.

Carwyn smiled. "She forgives you."

* * *

Merlin fell into bed that night more satisfied than he had been in a long time. Carwyn was learning at an astounding rate. Aithusa had found peace. He was home and safe.

So when he shot up in bed, dripping sweat from a nightmare, he was shaken to the core. He ran the back of his hand over his forehead, sucking in deep breaths. Percival hadn't stirred, so he musn't have cried out. Merlin stood and stumbled into the living area to a pitcher of water. He poured himself a cup and slumped down at the table, sipping slowly. He put the cup down and glanced at Carwyn sleeping soundly before resting his head in his hands.

What he had seen seemed so real. He had dreamed through another's eyes. _Through Aithusa's._ He had been confined and in pain, trapped in darkness. A tender voice called to him, bringing comfort, and he clung desperately to the voice. A hand caressed his side and he leaned into it. And then light had streamed down from above and he beheld his comforter: Morgana Pendragon, ragged, pale, wounded. He had jumped back, startled out of the dragon's point of view. He viewed the pit from above and watched as its occupants were sealed in once more. He screamed to no avail, trying to stop the suffering they'd been forced to endure.

Merlin closed his eyes. If he had known what had happened to Morgana and Aithusa... _I'm sorry I didn't look for you both._

A loud whine sounded in his ears. Merlin's head jerked up. He glanced around the room, seeing no source. The whine came again, insistent. Merlin stood. What was making that noise? It sounded like...Of course! Long ago, when he'd first come to Camelot, Kilgharrah had called to him in his mind. Aithusa couldn't speak, but Merlin recognized her voice. The white dragon needed him.

Merlin dashed back to his room to retrieve his coat and sprinted into the night.


	7. Vision

When Merlin reached Aithusa's cave, he entered cautiously, holding the light in his hand close to his body and cupping his other hand behind it. He didn't want to tip off anyone who might be inside. However, when he reached the back of the cave, he found Aithusa sitting peacefully, though expectantly. He glanced around to see that they were alone and breathed out in relief. He met her blue eyes.

"You called me?"

Aithusa bobbed her head up and down.

"Are you hurt?"

The dragon swayed her neck side to side.

"Good. Do you need me?"

Aithusa let out a series of indistinct noises.

Merlin shook his head regretfully. "I don't understand."

Aithusa stood to her feet and limped over to him, nosing him in the chest. Merlin smiled and laid a hand on her head. An image flashed through his mind and he abruptly stepped back. He had seen Carwyn.

"You...you can show me things with your mind," Merlin breathed out.

Aithusa bobbed her head again. She bumped him insistently with her nose and bowed her head to him. Merlin placed his hand back on her head.

He stared down at Carwyn. The boy was groaning, twisting and turning, glistening with sweat. He fell back still. Merlin's own voice sounded in his ear: "I will find who did this and he will not live to see another day!" A painful light burned his eyes and Merlin cried out as Aithusa broke her connection with him.

Merlin sank to his knees, shaking palms pressing into the ground. He looked up at Aithusa. "You can see the future?"

Aithusa swayed her head side to side.

"But I saw Carwyn...die."

Aithusa pressed her forehead into him and Carwyn's image flashed through his mind again.

"You can only see Carwyn. Something that will happen to _him_."

Aithusa nodded.

Merlin raised a trembling hand to the dragon. "Show me more!"

Aithusa fixed sad eyes on him and sank down to the ground.

"You can't show me anything else."

Aithusa lay her head on the floor.

"Have you shown Carwyn this?"

Aithusa shook her head.

Merlin covered his mouth with shaking hands. His breath came quick and hard as he replayed what Aithusa had shown him. "No. No. No," he repeated. _Not again. Not this._ "I can't do this again." Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he wiped at them. He couldn't lose another Pendragon. He couldn't lose Arthur's son.

Merlin locked his jaw and stood, bolting out of the cave. He _wouldn't_ lose another Pendragon. Not now, not ever again.

* * *

The front door of Merlin's home slammed into the wall as he marched through its doorway. His eyes flashed gold, instantly lighting every candle in the living area as he approached Carwyn's cot. The boy had stirred at his guardian's abrupt entrance. Merlin ran an eye over him. He was fine, at least for now. He leaned down and shook the boy. "Carwyn! Wake up!"

Carwyn groaned and opened tired eyes. "What?"

"You need to get up and pack."

Carwyn glanced around in confusion. "Why?"

"Just do it. Now."

Merlin turned and darted into his room, forgetting Percival on the floor and stumbling over the knight.

"Unh!" Percival called out, but testament to his knight training, was awake and alert in seconds. "Merlin, what are you doing? It's not even daylight."

Merlin picked himself up off the floor and threw a glance at a candle to light at. He grabbed his pack from under his bed, gathering up clothes and belongings and stuffing them inside. "We're going back to Camelot."

"What? Now?"

"Pack."

"The queen didn't want us back so soon."

"I don't care."

Percival rose from the floor. "Merlin..."

Merlin turned angry eyes on the knight. "Pack!"

"I don't want to go back to Camelot!" a voice shouted. Carwyn stood in his nightshirt in the doorway.

"You don't have a choice!" Merlin snapped at him.

"I'm the prince and I say we aren't going back!"

"I'm your guardian and my decisions are what matter!"

"What is going on?" A fourth voice joined the chaos, Hunith in her nightgown, staring at all three with concern.

"Merlin said we're going home!" Carwyn cried out to her. "I don't want to!"

Hunith lay a calming hand on the boy's head. "Merlin, what's wrong?"

"Can't you just trust me?" Merlin shouted, eying each in turn. "We need to go back. So pack."

Carwyn folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not going back!"

Merlin stepped threateningly towards his charge. "You'll go back if I have to tie you up and carry you myself!"

Carwyn backed away, tears and fear springing into his eyes.

Hunith stared at her son. "Percival, take Carwyn outside." Percival obeyed with a sideways glance at Merlin.

"Mother..."

Hunith held up a hand until she heard the front door shut. She rested her hands on her hips. "What is this about?"

"We need to go. We're not safe here." Merlin turned back to packing.

Hunith walked over to her boy and gripped him by the shoulders, turning him to face her. She raised her hands to cup his cheeks. "Sit down and tell me."

Merlin worked to control his emotions, finally slipping down to the bed. Hunith pushed his pack out of the way and sat next to him. She took his hands in hers. Merlin swallowed, meeting her intent gaze. "Aithusa's in a cave not far from here."

"Aithusa...The white dragon?"

Merlin nodded. "She called to me. She showed me...a vision."

"Of what?"

"Carwyn..." A hard lump caught in Merlin's throat. "Dying."

Hunith's hands tightened around his. "How?"

"I don't know. He was sick, poisoned, I'm not sure." Merlin yanked his hands out of her grasp and stood. "So we have to leave _now_." He pulled his pack back over to himself.

"Where did you see him?"

Merlin turned worn eyes on her. "Carwyn?"

"Yes. Where was he? Here?"

Merlin thought back. "I don't know. He was laying on a bed, maybe a cot. I didn't see that, just him."

"Then he might have been in Camelot."

Merlin stopped packing. Yes, he might have been in Camelot. Merlin sank back to the bed.

Hunith wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It must be terrifying for you after all that happened to Arthur."

Merlin closed his eyes against welling tears. "Why me? Why does fate always choose me? Why can't it leave Arthur alone? He's dead. What more does it want? Carwyn? Gwen? How much will it take?" Merlin let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Stay." Hunith sat up, locking eyes with him.

"But what if..."

Hunith shook her head at him. "No. You've spent too long asking questions like that. I've watched second guessing change my son, making him despondent, angry. Merlin, you can't live like that."

Merlin looked away. "I haven't _chosen_ to live like this."

"You are safe here."

"You don't know that." Merlin stood and paced the room. "Every time I've thought things were safe, something ruined it all.

Hunith sighed. "Merlin, listen to me. You know so little right now. You don't know what your actions may or may not lead to. Be patient. Be calm. And wait. Don't take the prince away out of fear."

Merlin stopped pacing. She was right. Who knew how the future would play out? His interference had at times led to destruction and so had his inaction. He had no choice but to simply be vigilant.

Merlin held out his hand to Hunith, who took it. He squeezed her hand gently, then let go and left the room. He opened the front door to find Percival sitting on a bench outside, bouncing Carwyn up and down on his knee to the laughter of the prince. As they turned to look at him, Carwyn shrank against Percival.

Merlin took a long breath and knelt down next to the bench. "Carwyn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted. I thought..." He briefly glanced at Percival. "I thought there might be danger. But I...was wrong. We're staying."

A smile spread over Carwyn's face and he nodded to his guardian.

"You can go back to bed."

"I'm kind of awake now. Can you read me more about the spells?"

Merlin smiled despite his worries. "I will. I'll be inside in a moment."

Carwyn jumped off Percival's knee and went back into the house.

"What danger?" Percival asked, standing along with Merlin.

"I saw a vision."

Percival's face grew grave.

"Carwyn was hurt...and died."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know anything about how or when or even if it will occur. There's nothing we can do except watch him carefully." He met Percival's eyes. "We must be near him at all times wherever he goes."

Percival nodded.

Merlin looked back at the house. "And pray that fate is wrong for once."

* * *

Merlin and Percival took turns guarding the prince. Mornings were easy as Merlin spent all his time teaching Carwyn spells and keeping Aithusa company. The dragon never revealed her knowledge to the boy, but sometimes Merlin caught her gazing sorrowfully at him. _He won't die, Arthur_ , Merlin kept repeating to his king. _I won't let him._

Percival kept to a distance in the afternoons, staying out of Carwyn's way, but making sure he kept the prince within eyesight. Hunith, too, did her part, finding ways to distract Carwyn so he stayed with her in the evenings.

Time passed. Carwyn's understanding of magic grew. Merlin found every success of his charge added to his joy and slowly the dread of the vision dulled. Even more comfort came from the the fact that Carwyn had learned magical ways of protection. He could throw anything now and pick up objects and send them where he wished. Merlin told himself that all things considered, Carwyn was as safe in Ealdor as he would be in Camelot.

* * *

Carwyn sluggishly picked at his dinner one night, hardly able to keep his eyes open. "Merlin showed me a spell...I can...light a candle...and..." His head would have hit the table if Merlin hadn't quickly levitated it. Hunith laughed softly, stood, and picked up the prince in her arms, taking him to his cot.

Merlin felt a tug on his elbow. "I need to talk with you," Percival said.

Merlin looked quizzically at the knight, but swallowed the last of his own meal and gathered the plates with his magic, sending them over to the rinse bucket and dunking them inside.

"Why don't you do that all the time?" Percival asked.

Merlin shrugged. "Maybe _I_ don't want to turn into a lazy prat."

Percival shared his smile, then nodded to the door.

"Mother, we're going outside."

"Alright," Hunith called from Carwyn's cot.

They left the house and strode several feet away. "Let's keep going," Percival said, leading Merlin away from the village until they were far from earshot.

"What is it?" Merlin asked when the knight halted.

"It might be nothing, but I felt I should tell you. You know Adala?"

Merlin nodded, recognizing the name of the woman Percival had been seeing ever since they arrived in Ealdor.

"Her uncle's a farmer outside of the village."

"I know him," Merlin confirmed.

"Two travelers are staying with him. Adala went to visit. She said they were complaining about magic, about Camelot, about the queen."

Merlin tried to stay calm. This wasn't unheard of. Many people complained about these very things.

"But she heard them whispering later and overheard them talking about a meeting. What she told me...I'm not sure, but rebellion could be their aim."

Merlin mulled this over. "Did they mention Carwyn?"

"No."

Merlin placed clasped hands against his lips, thinking. "I'll look into it."

* * *

Merlin waited until all was quiet. Percival had taken to sleeping in the living area near Carwyn, explaining the change away by claiming Merlin snored. Carwyn had laughed and said Merlin never snored, but he hadn't questioned the knight's reasoning any further.

Merlin checked that the prince's chest rose and fell for confirmation he lived. He nodded to Percival on his way out. He'd put on his heavy green cloak, pulling the hood up to hide his face. He used his magic to silently open and close the door, then made his way through the forest. After a time, forest gave way to fields. He could see the house he made for in the distance.

Merlin had known the farmer since he was a child. He didn't think Philip was in any way involved, but the man had a kind heart, often taking in strangers. Merlin crouched as he neared the house. He hurried up to its side, listening at a window. All was silent. He sidled over to the back door. His eyes glowed as he opened the door and stepped inside. "Leoht." His light shined, though dimmer than normal so he didn't disturb any occupants. He moved around the room. He spotted the farmer asleep on a bed in a corner. He made his way to a ladder. He knew any visitors would room in the loft.

Merlin climbed the ladder with one hand and stepped gingerly into the loft. He shined the light every which way. Two pallets lay on the floor, but they were unoccupied. He moved closer, seeking out the travelers' bags. There they were, beside each other at the far end. He walked over to them and knelt, rummaging through their contents. Most was routine, but at the bottom of one he found a piece of parchment. He unfolded it, holding his light close to it.

Merlin's eyes searched the paper. It was a map. It noted his village and various topography around the area—the lake not far away, farming fields, another village. And the old shack even farther away that hadn't been occupied since he was a boy. A line had been drawn from the farmhouse to the shack. In one corner of the paper, a phrase had been written: "Long Live Camelot."

Merlin returned the map to the bag. "What are you up to?" he whispered.

* * *

Merlin crept along in the dark, navigating by moonlight. He knew the path to the shack like the back of his hand. He was contemplating how to approach it without being seen by anyone inside when he spied several flickering lights. He threw his sight ahead. A group of about two dozen people were gathered in front of the shack, many holding torches. A bearded man stood on top of a crate, addressing them. Merlin shifted directions, sneaking to the side to hide behind a dense copse of trees.

"King Arthur, God rest his soul, has been dead for eight years," the bearded man's voice rang out. "Eight years we've endured the reign of a false queen."

Merlin's heart began to beat faster. Percival had been right.

"King Uther was a good man. He protected us from evil. So did his son until sorcerers killed him. His wicked servant, a sorcerer in the heart of the kingdom, led him to his death. And so the evils of magic have been unleashed on our land."

Merlin's teeth clenched as he tried to calm his thoughts.

"You know what they say. The _queen_ and the _warlock_. They planned it together. And the prince, he's not King Arthur's son. He's a bastard, the offspring of betrayal and magic."

Merlin balled his fists, forcing himself to stay level headed and listen.

"But no more. We will take Camelot back. There are others like us all over the country and the day is coming when we will banish evil from Camelot once and for all."

The crowd clapped and some shouted their agreement. Merlin breathed in and out quickly and pushed farther into the copse, straining to hear any details that might be divulged.

"And what if Emrys already knows of your plot?"

Merlin froze.

"Emrys? Who is Emrys?" The speaker looked around the clearing for the person who had asked the question.

"The queen's sorcerer. He calls himself Merlin."

The speaker identified the questioner. He was cloaked just as Merlin and the warlock couldn't see past his hood. "The sorcerer is under watch."

"Then your watch has failed. Don't you know the village of his birth is but a night's walk away?"

"What of it?" the speaker challenged. "He doesn't leave the queen's side. We all know that."

"I fear for any rebellion in the hands of people so dull-witted."

The speaker shouted from his crate. "Who are you?"

"Someone who wishes his lackeys weren't idiots." The cloaked man raised his hand, and Merlin felt himself gripped by an invisible force, dragged through the trees, and dumped in the middle of the gathering. "Don't you agree, Emrys?"

The man stepped forward and yanked Merlin's hood away. Merlin's eyes darted between the people in the crowd staring in shock at both the cloaked man's use of magic and the appearance of Camelot's well-known sorcerer.

"Your plan is worthless," the hooded man declared as the crowd surged forward.

Merlin raised his hands and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Beslaepap!" The people toppled and crumpled to the ground.

Merlin jerked his head to the ground next to him expecting to see his antagonist unconscious. The man wasn't there. Merlin stood and moved from person to person, seeking the hidden figure that had exposed his presence. When he didn't find him, he stared fearfully into the night.

"Who are you?" Merlin echoed the speaker's question. "And how do you know me?"


	8. Enemy

Merlin occupied the kitchen table along with Hunith and Percival.

"I waited until dawn," Merlin said. "The travelers didn't return to the farm. Philip said he'd let me know, but I don't expect them to turn up."

"You're certain you didn't kill them?" Percival inquired, sounding disappointed.

"The spell I used would only put them to sleep."

"You should have taken at least one for interrogation."

Merlin bit his lip. He'd thought about it. "I don't think they're the true threat. They were clearly more passionate than planned. They thought they had someone watching me in Camelot, but they didn't know I'd left. They didn't care that my home village was nearby. They're disgruntled people with a bone to pick, but that's all. Perhaps someday they'll be more of a threat, but..." Merlin paused to place a hand to his lips. "The real threat was the man that knew I was there."

"You didn't recognize his voice?" Hunith asked.

"No. I don't think I've heard it before."

"But he called them his lackeys," Percival argued.

Merlin nodded. He'd been mulling that over. "They certainly didn't know it if they were. They hate magic and were surprised when he used it. I suspect he's worked behind the scenes stirring up their anger somehow." Merlin shook his head. "He's the threat. I know it. He's the one that wants Carwyn dead." Merlin glanced at the prince still sleeping as they conversed in low tones.

"Why would he reveal himself to you?" Hunith asked, eyebrows creased in concern.

"Maybe he didn't expect me to show up? I don't know." Not knowing was killing Merlin. The man was obviously a powerful sorcerer, and Merlin had no idea how to prepare for what he might intend to do.

"Even if they are disorganized," Percival said, going back to what bothered him most about Merlin's experience, "they're bold enough to hold meetings suggesting rebellion. Disorganized rabble can be just as dangerous as planned armies."

"Possibly," Merlin muttered.

"We need to get word to Camelot. Warn the queen."

"I think we need to go back to Camelot."

Hunith looked Merlin in the eye and unlike a month ago when she persuaded him to stay, she nodded. "The danger is clear." She glanced at Carwyn. "Do you want me to tell him?"

Merlin took a breath and shook his head. "I will." _This time I'll do it right._

* * *

"Let's go!" Carwyn shouted after breakfast, making for the door.

"Carwyn," Merlin called out.

Carwyn stalled and turned. "Yeah?"

"Come with me." He gestured towards the back door.

"But Aithusa..."

"She'll keep for now."

Carwyn reluctantly submitted, following Merlin out the backdoor.

"You know what I like to do?"

Carwyn shrugged.

"This." Merlin sat cross-legged in the middle of the garden.

"Oh. Yeah, you like nature. I know. Can we go?"

"Sit across from me."

"Is this another 'sense the magic' lesson? We can do that in the forest."

" _Sit down._ "

Carwyn let out a disgruntled sigh and sat facing his mentor.

"So, yes, it _is_ another 'sense the magic' lesson."

"I knew it!"

Merlin smiled kindly. "But it has more of a purpose than that today. Close your eyes. Tell me what's around you."

"Plants."

"What kind?"

"Uh...potato, cabbage, carrot, some primroses."

"What else?"

"Insects, of course. A spider. It's hungry."

"And..."

"A hare. Hiding in the cabbages."

"Good. Now, I want you to let all that life into your mind."

"All at once?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Let each life pour over you layer by layer."

"I'll try." There was a long silence.

"Well?"

"I hear them all," Carwyn whispered.

"Listen to them." Merlin had closed his own eyes. "They move as nature directs. They live in the moment. Exist in the moment with them."

Merlin could hear Carwyn breathing slowly in and out. He opened his eyes to look down on the prince, hating to disturb such peace. "When times are difficult, nature can bring quiet to your soul and help you listen to what is hard to hear."

Carwyn didn't open his eyes, but cocked his head.

"I have to tell you something you don't want to hear. Don't let go of the nature around you."

"What is it?" Carwyn whispered lowly.

"We have to leave Ealdor for our safety."

"But...but..."

"Listen to the garden."

Carwyn's eyelids squeezed tighter. "They're harder to hear now. Why do we have to go?"

"There are people nearby who hate your mother. They wish her and you harm."

"I don't want to leave Aithusa."

"We must."

"But I love her."

Merlin smiled at the description. "I know, but I told you dragons are free. She will understand."

"Can I tell her good-bye?"

Merlin marveled at the innocence of childhood. He'd just told Carwyn he was in danger, and all the boy cared about was his "pet" dragon. "We'll go see her now. Then we must pack and go."

Carwyn opened his eyes and Merlin started at the tears in them. He reached out and clasped Carwyn's hands. "It's going to be alright." Carwyn nodded, holding tightly to the warlock's grip.

* * *

Merlin embraced his mother. Hunith squeezed him firmly, then pulled back to place her hands once more on either side of his head. "I love you, my son. Protect yourself and the prince. And write soon."

"I will," Merlin promised. He swung himself up onto his horse.

Hunith grasped hands with Carwyn already mounted. "Come visit me again."

Carwyn nodded, trying desperately to hold back tears. "You'll visit Aithusa?"

Hunith glanced at Merlin. She didn't really relish the idea of taking care of a dragon.

"Aithusa can take care of herself," Merlin reminded the prince. "She'll prefer it that way."

"But if she needs anything..."

Hunith squeezed Carwyn's hands. "Then she will have me nearby. Don't worry."

Merlin chirruped to his horse. It started forwards, followed by Carwyn's, and Percival at the rear. Hunith waved to Percival who waved back as he passed.

* * *

A long day of riding found the three travelers weary in front of a warm fire. Carwyn had been proud when he'd been able to light it with magic. Now, he lay on his pallet next to Merlin who stared into the fire and fiddled with a stick.

"When will we go back to Ealdor?" Carwyn asked quietly.

"I'm not sure."

"I liked it there," Carwyn said. "It's so much better than Camelot."

Merlin smiled. He wondered how much of the prince's enthusiasm was Ealdor itself and how much was the awesomeness of having a relationship with a dragon.

"I liked it, too," Percival said contemplatively, lying on his own pallet to their right, head propped up on his arm.

"Hm," Merlin intoned. "Care to elaborate?"

Percival eyed him. "You know, the country air, the nature, the freedom."

Merlin grinned. "And..."

Percival glared at him.

"Adala," Carwyn finished. The two men stared in surprise at the prince. "You spent so much time with her. Is she your best friend now?"

Merlin shared a glance with Percival, both of them trying not to laugh. Percival breathed in and out, a hand over his mouth for a moment until he recovered enough to speak. "Sort of."

"I don't have a best friend," Carwyn said a little sadly.

Merlin placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You have me."

"You're like a father," Carwyn said, looking at Merlin like he had no clue what he was talking about. "Fathers and sons aren't best friends."

"Why not?" Percival asked.

"That's just not the way it works."

Merlin smiled wistfully as he focused back on the fire. "Kings and servants aren't supposed to be best friends, either," he spoke softly.

There was a moment of quiet, then Carwyn spoke. "I guess that's true. Alright. You can be my best friend. For now. Until I find a real one. Besides Aithusa anyway."

Merlin shared another amused glance with Percival.

* * *

Another day of riding passed. The closer they got to Camelot, the more at ease Merlin felt. He still trusted himself to protect Carwyn, but he'd feel even better when the prince was surrounded by gates and knights. He wanted every layer of protection available.

The morning of their last day of travel dawned early. Carwyn had grown eager to get home. Besides being bored of travel, the prince wanted to see his mother, and now that Camelot was so near, he itched to see her all the more.

Percival managed to catch two rabbits when they rested at noon. He roasted them over a fire, and the travelers tucked into a meal of tasty meat and dried fruits Hunith had sent along with them. After eating, Merlin saw to extinguishing the fire with magic, while Carwyn repacked their bags.

Percival stretched his arms over his head. "By evening, home and a bed again."

"You could have taken the bed in Ealdor," Merlin said. "I offered."

Percival nodded. "And gloated about it to all the other knights in Camelot."

"Well, maybe a little," Merlin admitted, smiling.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned to look at Carwyn. "Yes?" The prince stared into the forest. He didn't speak. Merlin walked up to him. "What is it?"

Carwyn shook his head slowly. "I thought...I don't know."

Merlin clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Come on. Soon we see your mother." As Merlin turned back, he heard a thud.

"Percival!" Carwyn called out, running over to the knight who had toppled to the ground.

Merlin rushed to the knight as well and knelt on one knee next to him. He immediately observed the dart sticking out of the man's neck. He grabbed Carwyn, dragging him between their horses.

"Percival..."

"He's been knocked out by a dart," Merlin quickly explained, pushing Carwyn farther down among the horses. "Stay down!"

Merlin glanced every which way, trying to ascertain from which direction the dart might have come. He recalled once when he and Arthur had been attacked by slavers. This time they wouldn't find such easy targets.

 _Emrys._

Merlin's eyes grew wide as he recognized the voice of the cloaked man he'd met not three nights ago speaking inside his mind.

 _So you can hear me. Good. I worked long on this skill._

Merlin pulled Carwyn into him, wrapping his left arm around the boy.

"Merlin?" Carwyn questioned fearfully.

"Shhhhh." Merlin shifted, sending his sight into the woods repeatedly in different directions. Where was he?

 _Do you really think I'd let you see me? I'm not strong enough to face you man to man. Not yet._

"Show yourself!" Merlin shouted.

Carwyn stared in confusion at his guardian.

 _I won't be doing that today. Do you want me to give you a moment to explain to the prince? I've seen him do magic. Are you teaching him? Or was he born with it like you? Some say he's your son, that the queen cuckolded her king._

"I would never do that to Arthur!" Merlin shouted, his anger exploding.

"Merlin?" Carwyn's voice shook next to him.

Merlin held him tighter. "It's alright. Don't move."

 _Ah, well, I didn't really think so, not with all I've learned about you._ _Too loyal and good, weren't you? So loyal, you turned on the very magic that gave you life._

"What are you talking about?"

 _You let many die for an unjust kingdom. My own kin the first martyr of the new reign!_

"Who are you?"

 _What is more important to you? Your kin or the child you've raised?_

Merlin swallowed hard. "There's no difference," he whispered. There was no response. Merlin knew then the man wasn't close enough to hear him whisper.

"Are you talking to someone?" Carwyn asked.

"Shh. Keep quiet and trust me," Merlin commanded the boy.

 _You left Ealdor, I assume to protect the prince. But you left behind your kin._

Horror dawned in Merlin's mind. "Mother."

 _I've poisoned her water barrel._

Merlin clenched his fists and brought a trembling hand to his mouth.

 _For all the claims you're the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth, it's rather easy to defeat you. You may be powerful, but you can only be in one place at one time._

Merlin sent his sight back through the woods again. He couldn't see anyone anywhere.

 _You should look up._

Merlin started to raise his eyes to the trees, when Carwyn began to shake violently.

 _You have one other failing_ _—_ _You refuse dark magic, and its power will always rival yours._

"Carwyn? _Carwyn_?"

The prince's eyes were frozen in fear. A thump sounded a few meters away, and Merlin caught a cloaked figure sprinting away into the trees. His eyes flashed gold as he stood. The figure was thrown several meters as Merlin stalked towards him. He recovered before the warlock could reach him and cried out. "Poden!"

A howling wind careened past Merlin, forcing him to use his own magic to keep himself rooted to the ground. It blew past him and into the man, lifting him off the ground and blasting him far into the forest.

"Mer...Mer..."

Merlin turned, rushing back to Carwyn. He lifted the boy into his arms. "Carwyn!" The prince's eyes rolled back into his head.

"No!" Merlin screamed. "No!" He lay Carwyn on the ground, pressing his hands into his chest. His golden eyes darted back and forth as he pushed magic through the prince's body. No poisons he could detect. No sickness. What was this?

Carwyn's back arched, and his arms flailed. Merlin began chanting incantation after incantation, everything he knew to heal. None had any effect.

 _I need Gaius!_ The physician held way more knowledge about healing than he, magical or otherwise. Merlin picked Carwyn up, intending to throw him onto his horse, but he stopped, the child nestled in his arms.

He recalled the words of the cloaked man. _What is more important to you? Your kin or the child you've raised?_ "I can't do this!" _I have to choose. My mother or Arthur's son._


	9. Choice

Merlin cradled Carwyn in his arms, eyes fixed on his horse in indecision. _I can't choose between them. I can't._ "Arthur, tell me what to do!" _What would you do?_ No answer came.

Carwyn jerked repeatedly. Merlin sank to the ground, clasping the child into his chest. "I can't lose you." Tears sprang to his eyes. "You're all I have left. The only reason I live." But then Hunith appeared in his mind's eye, innocent and unaware, dipping a pitcher into the water barrel. After all she'd done for him, she didn't deserve to die in poisoned agony.

Merlin took a shuddering breath. _If only Kilgharrah lived, I could call him and..._ Merlin sprang to his feet, looking up at the sky. He yelled as loud as he could, crying out in the dragon tongue. "Aithusa! Elate ste bontheia mou! Carwyn sas chreiázetai!"

Merlin knew he wouldn't be able to ride Aithusa, but Carwyn was a child. If she could just carry him, there might be hope. Then again, he had no idea if her tattered wings could even fly. She hadn't flown since they'd found her. And Ealdor was two days behind them. It would take her some time to get to them. Carwyn could die before then.

Merlin made to set the boy on his horse. He'd ride towards Camelot and if Aithusa appeared, he'd have her take him, then he'd ride back to Ealdor. _I can save them both. I must._

A flapping sound came from behind him and Merlin turned abruptly. He stared in amazement. "Aithusa." How had she arrived so quickly?

The dragon landed and limped hurriedly over to him, eyes on Carwyn.

"You've been following us," Merlin guessed.

Aithusa nodded her head.

Merlin gave silent thanks for the loyalty of dragons. "Carwyn is hurt, just as you showed me. He needs to go to Camelot right now."

Merlin lay Carwyn gently on the ground in front of her. Aithusa set a large paw over the boy.

"Don't linger there. They'll be afraid of you, and they might try to kill you. Take him to the castle courtyard and then depart."

Aithusa bobbed her head.

"Go!"

Aithusa hovered and gripped Carwyn in both her paws. Merlin watched her rise and fly to the west. "Gaius, please save him."

Merlin dashed to Percival, stiff and still on the ground. He knelt beside him, yanked the dart out of his neck, and laid his hands on the knight's chest. "Awaec!" Percival didn't stir. "Awaec!" Merlin had begun to fear another defeat at the hands of the cloaked man when Percival gasped and wheezed. His eyes opened, dazed and confused.

"Percival!" Merlin spoke insistently.

Percival rubbed at his eyes and Merlin helped him sit up. "What happened?"

"You were hit by a dart. We were attacked. Carwyn was hurt by magic."

"The cloaked stranger?"

"Yes."

Percival slammed a hand into the ground. He glanced around them. "Where's the prince?"

"I ordered Aithusa to take him to Camelot."

"Aithusa?"

"She followed us."

Percival shook his head in surprise. "At least that's one good thing for our side."

"You need to ride to Camelot. Tell Gaius Carwyn's condition is caused by magic. I tried every healing spell I know and nothing worked. He needs to search for an answer somewhere, anywhere." Merlin gripped Percival's arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Why aren't _you_ telling Gaius?"

Merlin strode back over to his horse. "He's poisoned my mother."

Percival stared at Merlin in shock. "That bastard," he spat out.

"I'll ride to Ealdor and be back as soon as I can." Merlin climbed onto his horse and took off back to the east.

* * *

Merlin rode hard towards Ealdor, rationalizing his decision. He'd already changed what he'd seen. In the vision, Carwyn had died and he had spoken. He wasn't anywhere near the prince. It couldn't play out as he'd seen it.

Merlin rode throughout the night, stopping only briefly and impatiently to let his mount rest, pushing thoughts of his mother either dying or dead from his mind. He came upon a small village at dawn and paid an exorbitant amount to purchase a fresh steed, leaving his own to pick up on the return journey.

He rode on, another day, another night. The sun had just peaked above the horizon when he saw Ealdor in the distance. He pushed his tired mount faster, galloping right up to his front door. He slid off the horse before it even came to a stop.

"Mother! Mother!" He burst into the house and stopped in utter relief when he beheld Hunith standing up from a chair, a bowl of fresh snapped beans in her hands.

"Merlin! Why are you back?"

Merlin didn't answer. He bolted through the backdoor and to the water barrel, hearing Hunith run to catch up behind him. He stared into the water, incanting a spell to reveal the poison. "Abepece!" Nothing. Merlin stepped back. "He lied." Merlin put his head in his hands. "He lied!" And Carwyn had been back in Camelot these past days, and he hadn't been there to help save him.

"Merlin, what's happened? Carwyn..."

Merlin stumbled back into the house. "We were attacked. Carwyn is dying, maybe dead. I don't know. I sent him back to Camelot." He rushed back out the door. "I need a fresh horse. Now!"

Hunith ran next door to her neighbor's house, unwrapping the reigns of a horse tied there. "I'll explain later," she said to her son. She mounted.

"Mother..."

"I'm coming." She reached down to Merlin who allowed himself to be aided up behind her.

* * *

Merlin rode as fast as he could, using magic to direct the wind to their backs and speed them along. The horse reached the end of its strength regardless. They were forced to stop now and then to let the horse regain its strength, and finally, a day in, Hunith insisted Merlin let the poor animal rest for a few hours.

Merlin paced back and forth in front of the fire his mother built and he lit. When riding, he could focus on the journey. When they stopped, his mind splintered in different directions, imaging the worst.

"Try to sleep," Hunith advised.

Merlin kept pacing. "I don't need sleep."

"Have you slept any in the last few days?"

"I _don't_ need it!"

"Sit," Hunith commanded firmly.

"No!" Merlin stomped away, pausing with one hand on a tree, looking into the distance. He heard rustling as Hunith rose and came up behind him.

"Merlin." She reached up to put her hands on his shoulders, but he stepped away.

"Stop."

"Come sit by the fire."

"Leave me."

"Don't walk through this alone."

Merlin rounded on her. "Don't walk alone? I've _always_ been alone. No one knows what it's like to constantly be told you have a great destiny and then to come to the end and find death and loneliness and pain!" Merlin breathed in and out quickly and took a step back. "No one knows what it was like to have Arthur die in their arms and now...now...I've lost his son." Merlin gulped and stepped farther back.

"Carwyn may yet live."

Merlin shook his head. "No. He's dead. I know it." Merlin turned and tried to take another step away, but his knees buckled. Tears came furiously, shaking him with overwhelming sobs. He felt arms encircle him, Hunith holding him.

"I'm sorry," Hunith whispered. "I'm sorry."

"He lied to me!" Merlin shouted between crying breaths. "I should have known he was lying. He didn't want you. I knew it was Carwyn he wanted. Why did I listen?"

Merlin collapsed into Hunith's arms. She cradled him, silently letting him grieve the fears of failure and a possibly bleak future. Merlin, exhausted from days without rest, fell into a deep sleep in the comfort of his mother's embrace.

* * *

Hunith woke Merlin after a few hours, and the pair resumed their ride. Even such a short rest rejuvenated the warlock who awoke determined to reach Camelot, even though a part of him dreaded hearing the news that Arthur's heir had died.

They halted briefly to pick up Merlin's horse he'd left at the small village, leaving theirs for Hunith to collect when she went back to Ealdor. Merlin's horse, used to long and hard rides with the knights of Camelot, sped them along at a faster clip.

When Camelot finally appeared as they crested a hill, Merlin kicked the steed faster, galloping through busy streets and dodging its occupants. The gates were open. Merlin clattered through them to the courtyard. Leon was already sprinting down the steps, Merlin assumed having seen them or been informed of their approach.

"Merlin! We've been waiting for you!"

Merlin dismounted and quickly helped Hunith down. "Where is he?" Merlin asked without preamble, his heart racing in anticipation of the answer.

"In his chambers. Gaius has been searching for a way to heal him."

Merlin's heart sank as he followed Leon up the steps along with his mother. "Then he isn't well."

"No...He grows weaker by the hour."

They hurried through various halls. Right before they reached Carwyn's rooms, Leon laid a hand on Merlin's arm. "There's something else." Leon's eyes were grave.

"What?" Merlin asked, terrified of the answer.

"There was an assassination attempt on the queen. We'd just begun to write the letter to inform you when the dragon appeared in the courtyard with the prince."

Merlin stared blankly at the knight, the new information overwhelming him.

"We were quite frightened, but the dragon left immediately and when we saw Carwyn, we knew you must have sent him to us. Percival soon arrived to confirm our assumptions."

"Is Gwen...is she alright?" Merlin stammered.

Leon nodded slowly. "She will be. She was wounded horribly, but Gaius says she will recover."

 _It's him_ , Merlin shouted inside. _The cloaked sorcerer. He did it all._

Leon opened the door to Carwyn's chambers, and the three of them entered. Gaius looked up from a table with a large open book laid upon it. "Merlin! Thank the gods!"

Merlin rushed to Carwyn's bed. The boy was bare-chested, pale, and every inch of him glistened with sweat. He moaned and stiffened. Hunith stood next to Merlin, eyes moist. Gaius stepped up to the other side of the bed.

"I've tried everything. I've looked in every book. There's nothing like this in any of them."

Merlin stared across at Gaius. "The man who did this is a skilled sorcerer. He's using dark magic."

"I know. I scoured the library for everything we have on dark magic."

Merlin's chin trembled. "Then he won't be saved."

Hunith set a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Merlin, I have an idea, but every attempt I have made has failed. I don't want to give you false hope."

Merlin wiped at his eyes. "Tell me."

"I've used my skills as a physician and every power of magic I possess. This is no sickness. It is no poison. This is not a struggle of the body. I believe it is a struggle of the mind."

"Mind?"

Gaius nodded. "I believe the prince is trapped in his own mind, and what terror has been forced on him there, I cannot say."

Merlin stared down at the boy he considered his own son.

"You have powers we don't even fully understand. It's possible you can reach inside his mind and stop this."

Merlin nodded. Hunith backed away as Merlin walked to the other side of the bed, climbing up on it to kneel next to the prince. He took a deep breath and leaned over to lay his hands on either side of Carwyn's temple. Merlin, sailing in uncharted territory, attempted a spell not found in any book he knew of. "Breostloca geopenap aet mec." Carwyn jerked, twisting and turning.

Gaius gently held down the boy's shoulders. "Try again."

Merlin's hands shook. He closed his eyes and leaned down farther, meeting Carwyn forehead to forehead. "Breostloca geopenap aet mec!"

Light flashed in Merlin's eyes. He blinked as Carwyn jerked again. "Breostloca geopenap aet mec!" he shouted.

Merlin gasped as he felt himself sucked into a funnel of light flashing wildly in various colors. He gulped down the urge to vomit as he came to a dizzying and abrupt standstill in darkness. He heard the distant sound of a child crying.

"Carwyn!" he called out. "Are you here?"

The crying continued. Merlin moved tentatively towards the sound. It grew louder.

"Carwyn?"

A pinprick of light appeared. As Merlin came closer, the ball of light grew in size. He could make out someone floating inside—a child with his knees pulled into his chest, arms locked around his legs, head bowed. The crying intensified. Merlin reached out to the light. "Carwyn!" The light sent out electric bolts, shocking him. Merlin jumped back.

"Carwyn! It's Merlin. Look at me. Please."

The child's head rose and turned and Merlin started at the sight. His face was grotesquely battered and bruised. "What happened?"

"I tried to get out. They told me not to."

"Who?"

"The voices. They said they'd hurt me. They keep hurting me."

Merlin glanced around the darkness. "Where are they?"

"They only come when I try to get out."

"I'll help you," Merlin said, stretching out his hands to the light.

"No!" the boy cried out. "No! It will hurt!"

Merlin froze.

"I can't get out. I can't. I don't want to hurt anymore. I won't." The boy began to uncurl and the light flickered.

"Stop!" Merlin shouted, instinctively knowing the boy moved towards his death.

The boy stilled.

"Look at me."

The child met his eyes.

"We can do this together. You and me."

"I can't."

" _We_ can."

"I'm not strong enough."

"You are. You're as strong as your father. He never gave up and you won't either. Don't give in. You can't give in."

The child's chest rose and fell rapidly. "What do you want to do?"

"I will come to you, and then we will leave together."

"It will hurt."

"It will, but only for a moment. I'll help you bear it."

The child stared for a moment longer, then nodded.

Merlin raised his hands to the light. "Don't give in. Don't let go," he warned one more time. Merlin put his hands to the light. The electric pain jolted through his body and he screamed. He heard the child screaming as well. He held on, refusing to let go. His hands dug through light as dense as mud. He found the child's hand. The child tightened his grip, and as Merlin pushed, he pulled. Suddenly, Merlin was thrown forward. He enveloped the boy in his arms.

"Hang on!" He closed his eyes. He drew on all the magic he could sense flowing around him, anxious people in the room, tiny insects hidden in crevices, the vines along the walls outside the windows of the castle, the horses in the stables below. He pulled the magic in, layer by layer until the light burned with the intensity. Then he screamed again. The magic burst forth, filling the darkness with painfully bright light. The child was almost ripped from his grasp, but Merlin held on, folded arms crushing the boy to his chest.

* * *

"Merlin. Merlin."

Merlin blinked and opened his eyes. Gaius stood over him looking relieved. Merlin bolted upright and instantly regretted it, putting a hand to his aching head. "Carwyn."

"Look for yourself."

Merlin followed Gaius' finger. Carwyn lay next to him in his bed, eyes closed, but the color had returned to his skin and the sweat had disappeared. "He's alright."

Gaius nodded. "You did it."

Merlin swallowed and blinked at tears. He felt a hand on his arm. Hunith leaned down to embrace him. "My boy." She pulled back.

"To be honest," Gaius said, "we weren't sure you would make it. The prince was racked with convulsions and then went suddenly still."

 _Like the vision_ , Merlin recalled.

"And then, you fell back unconscious. We thought we'd lost you both. But the prince began to breathe normally, and your pulse was strong."

 _Carwyn didn't die in the vision_ , Merlin realized. He and Aithusa had only assumed the worst.

Percival's voice came from nearby. "We should inform the queen he's alright."

"Percival!" Merlin called out.

The knight appeared, smiling down at the warlock.

"Thank you," Merlin said gratefully.

The knight nodded.

"I'll go to the queen," Gaius said.

Merlin suddenly remembered that Gwen had been hurt. "Gaius. How is she really?"

"It will take some time for her to heal. She took quite a vicious cut to her abdomen."

Merlin shook his head angrily, the image of the cloaked man appearing in his mind. "I will find who did this and he will not live to see another day!" Merlin's voiced faded at the end as he heard himself utter the same words from the vision.

"You don't need to find him," Gaius said. "He's here."

"Here?"

"He was captured when he attacked the queen. He's in the dungeon."

Merlin stood and bolted from the room, ignoring the shouts of his mother, mentor, and friend as he staggered down the hall as fast as he could.


	10. Path

Merlin sagged against a wall as he descended the stairs to the dungeon. His head pounded, a result of the exertion of his magic when he'd rescued Carwyn from his imprisoned mind. Merlin forced himself to keep moving. He wouldn't wait another moment to confront the man who had almost torn his life to shreds a second time.

He stumbled down the last step. Guards at the bottom jumped up when they saw him. "Are you alright?" one inquired.

"Yes," he hissed out, wincing at the throbbing pain as he spoke. "Where is the prisoner who attacked the queen?"

"Follow me," the guard said, obeying the warlock without question.

Merlin concentrated on pulling himself together as he trailed behind the guard. His eyes gleamed gold as he attempted to heal the ache in his head. It worked a bit, taking the edge off.

The guard reached the end of a hall and began to unlock a cell door. The occupant inside stood. Merlin lingered in the shadows, not wanting to give his presence away. The man in the cell was middle aged, dark hair, nondescript clothing. He glared at the guard with a sneer.

The guard finished unlocking the door and looked back at Merlin. "Do you need me to stay?"

"No," Merlin spoke lowly. He didn't need anyone to witness what he planned.

The guarded nodded to him and departed.

Merlin stepped forward, swiftly opening the cell door and entering. He stared down the man who narrowed his eyes at him. The ache in Merlin's head intensified. He raised his hands, eyes flashing gold as the man was thrown back against the cell wall, expression now fearful. He opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin crushed his hands into fists, and the man scratched desperately at his neck as he was deprived of air.

Merlin dimly heard a voice crying out his name, but he ignored it. The man's eyes began to roll back into his head. Merlin continued to bore into him with ruthless golden eyes. A hand gripped Merlin's arm and he felt someone trying to pull him away. He didn't even turn his head. He directed magic towards his side and the person was tossed against the cell bars. Someone screamed.

"Merlin! Stop!"

Merlin shook his head at the voice he recognized as his mother.

"Merlin! This isn't you. You aren't a murderer!"

 _Not a murderer_ , Merlin thought, detached. How many had he killed to save Arthur? Was that murder? Perhaps not. Perhaps yes, depending on how one looked at it.

"Stop, please! Please! My boy, please don't do this."

Merlin felt a hand on his arm and spared a glance with his peripheral vision. Hunith's pleading eyes met him. He saw a figure laying on the floor—Percival. He blinked. The gold in his eyes faded and he collapsed to the floor. The prisoner slumped down to the ground in a heap, gasping to fill his air starved lungs.

Hunith embraced Merlin, kneeling next to him. He clutched her tightly, the pain in his head now doubled. "Percival," he whispered.

The knight was coming to, a hand on his head. He blinked at Merlin. "Remind me never to make you angry," he groaned.

Leon had appeared, rushing into the cell, red cape flying. He marched across the cell, reaching down to the man on the floor and hauling him up.

The man scowled at the knight. "No public execution in Camelot," he wheezed. "Just send in the sorcerer. I shouldn't be surprised."

Merlin began to tremble as he stared wide eyed at the man.

"Never try to kill a prince," Leon snapped.

The man's brow furrowed. "Prince?"

"What did you do to the prince?" Leon demanded, shaking the man roughly.

"You're all deranged. My blade found the queen, not the prince."

"It wasn't him," Merlin rasped.

Leon looked at him.

"It's not his voice," Merlin explained. The man may have attempted an assassination, but he wasn't the cloaked sorcerer.

Merlin clasped his hands to his head as darkness swirled around him. He crashed to the floor.

* * *

Merlin moaned. He tried to raise a hand to his head, but couldn't move. Something damp dabbed at his forehead.

"Merlin?" a gentle voice beckoned.

Merlin gradually opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Gaius looked down at him from the right, his mother from the left. He felt his mother holding his left hand. She smiled at him in relief.

"What...happened?"

Gaius frowned at him as he removed the wet cloth from Merlin's forehead. "You are more powerful than any sorcerer I've ever known," the physician said, "but apparently your power takes a toll."

"You've been asleep for two days," Hunith explained.

Merlin blinked. Two days? His stomach clenched. "I'm hungry."

Hunith laughed softly as Gaius rose from beside Merlin's bed. He returned with a bowl of soup. "Nothing too solid yet."

Gaius slid his hand under Merlin's back to help him sit up. Merlin leaned against his headboard and carefully took the bowl in weakened hands. He spooned the salty liquid into his mouth and swallowed gratefully. Then he remembered. "Percival. I threw him."

"He's alright," Hunith assured.

"Is Carwyn...?"

"Recovering well," Gaius reported. "And the queen as well. She will want to see you when you are strong enough. How do you feel?"

Merlin sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine. Tired. Well, my muscles ache all over, but I don't think I'm injured." He eagerly ate more soup.

"Good," Gaius said, then shared a telling glance with Hunith.

Merlin looked between them as he swallowed another bite of soup. "What is it?"

"We wanted to talk to you," Hunith said.

Merlin looked wary. "About what?"

Gaius placed a hand on his shoulder. "You know, Merlin, I have always looked on you as a son. I want you to listen to me as someone who cares for you."

"Al-right," Merlin said slowly.

"Magic, as you know, is only good or evil because of how it is wielded."

Merlin nodded.

Gaius looked down for a moment, then back up. "We don't want to see you take the path of evil."

Merlin lowered the soup bowl to his lap. "I would never..."

"You didn't see your face," Hunith spoke quietly.

Merlin turned to her. Her eyes were moist.

"When you were in the dungeon, and attacked the prisoner, I didn't see the boy I love."

Merlin looked down at the soup, heat rising in his cheeks.

"I saw a man who kills without thought."

Gaius patted Merlin's shoulder. "You've endured so much. We understand why."

"But don't do it again," Hunith implored.

"You cannot go the way of Morgana," Gaius said in a hushed voice.

Merlin looked up, eyes fierce. "I will never be Morgana."

"Any magic wielder could become Morgana," Gaius counseled. "To think that you cannot is to open the door to the path of evil. You must guard the power you possess."

Merlin replayed the scene in the dungeon, throwing the prisoner against the wall and choking the life out of him. He had attacked many people in his lifetime, but always to defend himself or others. One above all he regretted—poisoning Morgana. He had seen it as the only option, but the moment he handed her the poisoned water skin, he had felt darkness in his soul. He had attacked without provocation. _I did it again in the cell,_ he admitted to himself.

Merlin nodded slowly to the two people who loved him more than any in his life. "You're right."

Hunith squeezed his arm and Gaius removed his hand from the warlock's shoulder.

Gaius smiled. "You have power and wisdom. Always let wisdom guide your power."

"I will," Merlin vowed.

* * *

Merlin practically ran down the corridor. He'd finally managed to walk on his own two feet without aid a day after waking. Gwen had been informed of his recovery and wanted to see him. He knocked rapidly on her chamber door when he reached it.

"Come in," her voice called.

Merlin opened the door and stepped inside to find Gwen sitting up in bed with Carwyn by her side. The prince played with several toy soldiers.

"Merlin!" Gwen said brightly.

"Merlin!" Carwyn shouted, leaping off the bed and throwing his arms around Merlin's waist. Merlin grinned from ear to ear as he lifted the prince up into his arms and swung him around. Carwyn giggled and Merlin flopped him down on the bed.

"Carwyn's been regaling me with tales of Ealdor," Gwen said, eyes sparkling. "Dragons, Merlin?"

Merlin shrugged sheepishly.

Gwen laughed. "It's alright. We have Aithusa to thank for Carwyn's life."

"She brought me here," Carwyn explained to Merlin.

"I know," Merlin said. "I told her to."

"I guessed that," said Carwyn.

Merlin sat down on the edge of the bed and Carwyn leaned into him. "What do you remember about being hurt?" Merlin asked gently.

Carwyn let out a breath. "Not much. It was dark. I didn't feel good. And...I saw you. I knew you'd save me."

Merlin wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"I knew you would because that's what best friends do."

Merlin smiled slowly. "Best friends?"

"Well, I said we were, right?"

Merlin nodded. "You did."

Merlin turned to Gwen. "How are you feeling?"

Gwen rested a hand on her abdomen. "Much better."

Gaius had told Merlin she'd been attacked on her daily ride, a time when she asked for minimal guard. That, of course, had now changed.

"You were right," Merlin said quietly. "There's too much danger to you both. And with the way people feel about magic..."

"Merlin," Gwen interrupted, "Carwyn and I have been talking."

Carwyn nodded vigorously.

"And there will be no more secrets. I've already told the council Carwyn wields magic."

"And once the council knows, _everyone_ knows," Carwyn said in an almost perfect imitation of Gwen.

Merlin stared at Gwen, shocked she'd made such a decision. "Why?"

Gwen looked thoughtful. "There will always be danger to the royal family, whether we wield magic or not. And if that's true, I'd rather my son face threats with magic than without."

Carwyn looked savagely up at Merlin. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt me or mother again."

Gwen reached out and took Merlin's hand. "And _I'm_ not going to let you bear this alone. You'll stay here and teach Carwyn and show me how to be a mother to a son with magic."

Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat, nodding gratefully to Gwen.

Carwyn shoved a toy soldier into Merlin's hand. "You want to be Percival? You can talk about how your muscles are so amazing."

Gwen and Merlin shared a smile and broke into laughter.

* * *

Merlin stood beside Gwen on the castle balcony overlooking the courtyard, his hands behind his back. He watched as the assassin who'd attacked the queen was led out to a scaffold. Leon had interrogated the man, but he had confessed no information regarding his identity or motive. The knight had been frustrated and appealed to Merlin for help, but Merlin refused. After Gaius and his mother had advised him, he wasn't going to utilize magic for torture or the violation of will, no matter how much the ends seemed justified.

A crowd had gathered below, and some booed and shook their fists at the prisoner. Merlin was encouraged that although some grumbled about Gwen, many supported her. In their eyes, the attack on her was an attack on them all.

The noose was tightened around the man's neck. Leon's voice rang out. "This man has been found guilty of an act of treason against Queen Guinevere Pendragon, our rightful monarch and ruler. According to the law of Camelot, the punishment is death." Leon raised his hand. Right before he lowered it, the man shouted.

"Long live Morgana Pendragon!"

Merlin and Gwen eyed one another as the trap door fell away and the man met his end.

The people began to murmur and disperse. Gwen grasped Merlin's arm, eyes alarmed. "Morgana? What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Merlin muttered, his expression reflecting hers. He didn't know, but he intended to find out.

* * *

Merlin reigned in his horse, dismounted, and began to search the forest. His moments with Arthur after the battle of Camlann had been burned into his memory. He knew this was where Morgana had found them on the way to Avalon. This was where he had killed her.

He walked back and forth in a grid-like pattern. He had never returned to bury her. Her body would have lain exposed to the elements. He didn't want to imagine what would have happened to it when wild animals sniffed it out. He thought perhaps he might identify some bones indicating what had happened to her, but even though he searched the better part of a day, he found nothing.

He finally sat down, and confronted the view—the lake of Avalon and the Isle of the Blessed some ways in the distance. He hadn't looked at it until now, afraid to face it once more. He felt the dull ache of his heart whenever he remembered Arthur's death. He let out a pent up breath. "I'm waiting, Arthur. I'll always wait. As long as I have to. And I'm watching over your family. I promise they're protected."

He rested for a while longer, then rose, turning from the painful sight. He walked back towards his horse, but as he passed a tree, something caught his eye. A symbol had been carved into its trunk—a diamond shape with a star in the middle. He traced a finger over it. "To mark a sacred site," he murmured. "A site of death."

Merlin put a hand to his chin. Someone had marked the place of Morgana's end. "What does it mean?" Merlin pondered aloud.

"You're making the pilgrimage?"

Merlin startled at the woman's voice that questioned him, turning around to see an older woman with graying hair. She carried a passel of white flowers in her hands.

"Er...yes," he stammered.

The woman nodded shortly and walked up to the tree, setting the flowers at its base. She stood with her eyes closed for a moment, then opened them to look at him. "I know who you are, Emrys."

Merlin backed away, but the woman smiled kindly. "You needn't fear me."

"Who are you?" Merlin asked.

"Only a traveler. I matter little in the grand scheme of things. But I do know you shouldn't be here."

"Why?"

"I am too old to care about petty rivalries and past wars, but some still do. I come here only to honor a high priestess, nothing more."

Merlin glanced around the glade. "Others come here, too."

"She is more than a high priestess to them. She is their idol. If they found you here, they would not hesitate to kill you."

Merlin's eyes filled with horror. "People worship Morgana?"

The woman nodded and turned to walk away.

Merlin followed after her. "Who are they? Tell me about them."

The woman looked back over her shoulder. "I hope you won't kill me, Emrys. I don't wish to die, but I will not tell you. I will not give you names so they may be destroyed, too. If you wish to know, you must learn on your own."

Merlin stared after the woman, letting her go. He climbed onto his horse and raced back towards Camelot, the knowledge of a cult devoted to Morgana throwing his mind into turmoil.

* * *

Merlin hastened back to his room when he arrived in Camelot. He was impatient to inform Gwen about his discovery, but she was occupied elsewhere and he was forced to wait. He was certain the man who had attacked her belonged to this faction that revered Morgana. _And the cloaked sorcerer._ Merlin had come to suspect they had both been in league, one targeting the queen, the other the prince.

Merlin strode over to the wash basin on his dresser and splashed water on his face. While he dried with a towel, he spied a sealed letter floating above his head. He reached up for it, and it zipped away. He grinned at the welcome distraction.

"Carwyn, where are you?" he called out, turning.

Snickering came from under his bed. He leaned down to see the prince grinning. "How many times do I have to tell you..."

"Magic shouldn't be used for pranks," Carwyn completed the sentence. "You're no fun, Merlin."

Actually, Merlin wished he could scamper throughout the castle with Carwyn causing all kinds of mischief, but he had learned well from Gaius. The physician was right that using magic to taunt or take advantage of people wouldn't do it any favors.

"The letter?" Merlin asked.

Carwyn's golden eyes moved and directed the letter into Merlin's hand.

"Good. Now aren't you supposed to be practicing with Percival today?"

Carwyn rolled his eyes. "Magic's more fun."

"Maybe," Merlin said as the boy climbed out from under his bed. "But knowing how to use a sword is still valuable." He turned the boy around by the shoulders and gave him a light shove in the back.

Carwyn strode to the door and waved once. "See you later."

Merlin waved back. As the door closed, he looked at the letter. He didn't recognize the seal. He broke it and unfolded the parchment. His eyes widened.

 _Emrys,_

 _I concede this first round to you. I blame myself for approaching you too soon. I will not make this mistake again. I may not be strong enough to defeat you yet, but someday I will. I'll wait as long as it takes. Farewell for now._

 _Your Enemy_

* * *

Merlin dropped a pile of books onto the table in the library and sat down in front of them. His brow was creased, his eyes hard. He picked up the book on top and opened it to the first page. He read the inscribed title: _Dark Magic and Its Practices._

Merlin settled in for a long read. He would never walk evil's path, but he would be ready to defeat it when it reared its ugly head.


	11. Warlocks

**Part II: Warlock**

Merlin strode swiftly down the streets of Camelot towards the castle gates, his cloak gathered around him, hood pulled up against the cold. Freshly fallen snow crunched in his wake. If he hadn't been so exhausted he would have exalted in the beauty of winter come again. As tired as he was, he sought only his room and a warm bath.

He passed through the last gate into the castle courtyard, quickening his pace to reach the steps that led inside.

"When are you going to let me go with you?"

Merlin halted at the young man's voice. "You know it's too dangerous."

"Clotpole."

Merlin rolled his eyes. The prince had never let him forget the insult that had slipped out of his mouth. At the time, the youth had been acting so like Arthur and in his frustration he'd shouted it without thinking. Carwyn had laughed uproariously.

Merlin turned to face the prince, now seventeen and more a man than a boy. He wore a cloak as well, but the hood was flung back revealing his tousled, curly brown hair. His dark eyes twinkled and Merlin thought again how much he favored Gwen, though his build was all Arthur.

"Don't you know how to address your elders by now?" Merlin chastised, the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile.

"You're my elder now, are you?" Carwyn replied. "How old _is_ an elder?"

Merlin broke into a grin. "Never you mind."

Carwyn laughed and walked up to his guardian, sharing a hand grip, but his eyes sobered almost immediately. "You find any more?"

"Two groups. They weren't large. Easily dispersed."

"Any arrests?"

Merlin shook his head. "None of them had done anything to warrant an arrest."

"They should be grateful for your compassion."

Merlin sighed inwardly. Actually, he often worried he was _too_ compassionate. He'd spent so many years now tracking down the Cult of Morgana, but he found more often than not people who either lacked the magic skill to do much about it or managed to keep their hands clean. Sometimes he thought it would have been better to arrest everyone he caught following the high priestess, just in case. But that, Gaius had counseled him, would be as unjust as someone arresting him simply because he utilized magic. Merlin had no desire to be the cause of another indiscriminate purge.

Merlin resumed his march toward the stairs. Carwyn paced beside him. "So what were you doing out here?" Merlin asked. "Another clandestine meeting?"

Carwyn smirked. "No." Gwen had given him a thorough dressing down the last time he'd sneaked out of the castle to meet a girl. "I was waiting for you. I've spent the last two days on the battlements watching for any sign of you."

Merlin paused at the bottom of the stairs, his expression alarmed. "What's wrong?"

Carwyn's gaze saddened. "Age," he said quietly. "It's Gaius."

Merlin sprinted up the stairs as fast as he could.

* * *

When Merlin reached the physician's chambers, he found Gaius' apprentice Grimald sitting next to the physician's bed. He rose when Merlin entered.

"Merlin." He strode up to the warlock and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I've done what I could, but I can only make him comfortable. He's been asking for you."

Merlin approached Gaius' bed, taking in the man he'd always considered a father. Two years ago, Grimald, a middle aged, balding man, had been appointed to relieve the burdens of the physician. Merlin had thought Gaius would put up an argument at the time, but he acquiesced. He told Merlin he wasn't what he used to be; Merlin hadn't wanted to believe it. Now, as Merlin traced the wrinkles on his mentor's worn face, he knew Gaius had grown old without his permission.

Merlin forewent the chair by Gaius' bed, kneeling next to it instead so he could be as close to the physician as possible.

"Gaius, what ails you?" Merlin asked gently.

Gaius blinked a couple times, then looked surprised. "Merlin! I'd wondered where you'd got to."

"Protecting Camelot like always," Merlin said.

"Yes, of course." Gaius lifted a hand to Merlin's cheek. "You've always been so good to us."

Merlin bit his lips and his chin trembled. He cleared his throat. "I'll help you heal." He laid his hands on Gaius' chest, but the old man placed his own over Merlin's.

"I'm dying. There's nothing to be done."

Merlin shook his head, hating the physician's acceptance of the inevitable. He wasn't ready for this. "If I'd spent more time with you...If I hadn't been gone so much..."

"You can't stop death, no matter how powerful you are."

"But I can help you."

"Merlin, I'm tired. I'm ready to pass beyond the veil. I just wanted to see you...one more time."

"Gaius...don't leave, please." Merlin felt tears roll down his cheeks.

"I've always loved you as my own...I am so proud of you...I will miss you, my boy." Gaius smiled and drew in a thin breath.

"Gaius..." Merlin's throat closed as grief overwhelmed him.

The physician's chest rose and fell one more time, then his eyes stilled. Merlin's hand shook as he reached over and closed Gaius' eyes for the last time.

* * *

A light knock sounded on Merlin's door. The warlock called out from the table he'd sat at for the last hour, his dinner untouched. "Come in."

The door cracked open and Gwen peeped her head in. "May I join you?"

Merlin gestured to the table. Gwen entered the room and sat down to Merlin's right. Merlin picked up his spoon, stirring a bowl of soup.

"I'm sorry," Gwen said softly.

Merlin nodded to her, staring blankly at the soup, watching pieces of carrot bob up and down.

"Gaius was a good man. A good mentor to you and a friend to me. His loss will be felt keenly by all of us."

Merlin didn't respond. He was so very powerful, but not powerful enough to keep people he loved from abandoning him—Freya, his father, Arthur, now Gaius.

"I have a proposition for you, and I'd like you to think about it before rejecting it out of hand."

Merlin turned his head to Gwen. "What is it?" His voice was hoarse.

"I wish I didn't have to speak of this so soon after Gaius has left us, but I wanted to give you time to consider." Gwen shifted in her seat, looking Merlin in the eye. "I would like you to be our next physician."

Merlin blinked. "Me? No, that honor should go to Grimald."

"You may keep Grimald as an assistant if you like."

Merlin shook his head. "I'm not a physician, Gwen."

"You've watched Gaius for years. And where he could not succeed, you've often helped with magic. You are more than capable, Merlin."

"Carwyn..."

"Isn't a child anymore. He doesn't need you as much. You can still teach him in your spare time."

 _Spare time_ , Merlin thought. Why did that phrase sound so very wrong?

"Just consider it. Think it over during the time of mourning."

"Gwen..."

Gwen put a hand on Merlin's arm. "I won't let you give me your answer until our mourning is over." She stood and exited, shutting the door quietly.

 _Mourning never truly ends_ , Merlin thought as he raised the soup spoon to his mouth, then lowered it and stood, readying himself for bed.

* * *

The door to Merlin's chambers swung open, and he looked up from his desk covered with maps, parchments, and books. Carwyn ambled in dressed in a warm shirt and jacket, carrying his cloak over his arm. "Here he is. The hermit sorcerer."

Merlin frowned. "Better a hermit than a clotpole prince."

Carwyn strolled up to the desk, glancing at its contents. He picked up a map with various places circled. "Possible cult gatherings?"

"Yes."

Carwyn set the map back down. "Merlin, you need to rejoin the living. Stop spending every day in here stuck with all this." He gestured, encompassing the clutter on the desk.

"All this will protect Camelot," Merlin argued, pulling the map back in front of him.

"Yes, but you can't obsess over it day and night."

"Are you here to prove your pompous vainglory, deciding what your subjects are allowed to do with their own time?"

Carwyn met Merlin's eye with a grin. "When it comes to a man who's locked himself up for a month, yes."

Merlin looked back down at his papers, shuffling them around. "You're welcome to stay and watch me read. Or you can go and do something useful."

"I am going to do something useful. I'm going hunting. Come with me."

Merlin gave Carwyn a hard stare. The prince knew full well he hated hunting. "I decline your invitation."

"I'm going alone."

Merlin glared at the prince. "You're not. Take some soldiers along."

"I'm going alone unless you come with me." Carwyn walked over to Merlin's wardrobe and pulled out his jacket and cloak. He held them out to the warlock.

 _Ugh._ Merlin rose from his seat, scowling at the young man who knew exactly how to make the warlock do what he wanted. He swiped his jacket and cloak out of Carwyn's hands. "You're just like..."

"I know, I know. My father. To hear the tales, you'd think all he ever did was drag you into his troubles."

"Pretty much," Merlin grumbled under his breath as he put on his jacket.

Carwyn fixed his cloak over his shoulders. "Well, I understand him. It's always desperately boring around here."

"The last time it wasn't desperately boring you almost died." Ten years had passed since Carwyn had been attacked by the cloaked stranger, a man Merlin had never found, no matter how much he tried. Sometimes he wondered if their proclaimed enemy had died, but he worried more that the dark sorcerer bided his time, waiting for the right moment to strike again.

Carwyn sighed. "Did you know some are calling _this_ time the Golden Age? Perfect peace and harmony."

"You don't like peace and harmony?" Merlin asked as he retrieved his bag from a dresser.

"Maybe I like excitement more." Carwyn's eyes sparkled mischievously.

Merlin slung the bag over his head. "I don't think your mother would agree."

"But you would?" Carwyn asked.

Merlin paused in the middle of fastening his cloak and stared at the prince.

Carwyn's voice grew quiet. "Because he might come back...Do you really think he will come back when Albion needs him most?"

Merlin nodded.

"Then I wish we needed him, too." Carwyn shared a look of understanding with his guardian. "But you'll do for now," he concluded, breaking the moment.

Merlin couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Merlin rode next to Carwyn and grimaced at his choice of weapon. "You don't need the crossbow."

"I need practice," Carwyn said. "I promise I'll shoot and then break the neck."

Merlin cringed. He'd never liked traipsing after helpless animals. It felt to him like a violation of nature's magic. But Carwyn didn't have the same misgivings. His magic never rebelled at the hunt. Merlin often reflected that he may have given Carwyn magic, but Arthur's heritage was still the boy's foundation.

Carwyn glanced back and forth for a moment, then cried out into the air. "Aithusa, ercheste sto kynigi!"

A flapping of wings come from in front of them as the white dragon appeared in the sky. She circled them once, then landed in front of their horses.

"You're cheating again," Merlin teased.

Carwyn smiled. "She loves it so much. It gives her something to do." He rubbed Aithusa's snout when she thrust her head in front of him. "Hey, girl. Want to find me something? Psachne!"

Merlin watched the dragon hop gleefully into the air. He'd once told Carwyn that dragons weren't pets, but that was exactly what Aithusa acted like. Carwyn doted on her and she adored him. If he were honest, Merlin would have admitted he was a little jealous of Carwyn's relationship with the white dragon. Merlin may have called her forth, but her heart was all Carwyn's.

Carwyn clicked to his horse and Merlin rode parallel to him. Merlin may not have liked hunting, but he relished the crisp winter air biting at his nose and cheeks. Whereas spring exploded with the magic of new life, winter embodied magic's mystery, a feeling that the earth hid itself, waiting in eager anticipation for someone to discover it.

"The time of mourning for Gaius is almost over," Carwyn spoke quietly.

Merlin shook his head. He should have guessed why the prince had shown up at his room to drag him out hunting.

"Have you made a decision?"

Merlin had avoided deliberating over Gwen's proposal he become the court physician. He recognized the honor she was trying to give him...and the comfort. Perhaps she thought succeeding his surrogate father would help Merlin heal. But being a physician had never been his destiny. Assisting Gaius had only been a means to the mentoring of his magic. It didn't feel right to alter his fate now.

"Your mother put you up to this," Merlin accused.

Carwyn shook his head. "She has no idea I'm talking to you about it."

"I haven't thought much about it."

"She's going to ask you soon. She'll expect an answer."

"You want to convince me to accept."

Carwyn turned to look at his own surrogate father. "I want you to decline." Aithusa called from somewhere ahead. "There!" Carwyn took off on his horse, leaving Merlin staring after him in confusion.

Merlin squeezed his horse's sides, galloping behind the prince. Carwyn came to a halt and Merlin stopped beside him. Carwyn's eyes glowed gold as he sent his sight into the forest. "Oh no." He trotted forward.

Merlin followed, employing his own sight. Aithusa lay in a clearing next to a fawn with an arrow in its hide.

Carwyn reached the clearing and jumped off his horse, running to the dragon. He knelt next to the young deer. He ran a hand over its head, shushing to calm it, his eyes gleaming gold to help it relax. He stared at the arrow.

"You'll have to be careful," Merlin warned as he dismounted.

"I know." Carwyn laid hands on the fawn's side. "Araeme ond gestrice." The arrow dislodged from the wound, and Merlin watched as sinews drew back together and skin overlaid them. He marveled. How far his young charge had come! Of course, the spell was much easier to perform on animals with far less chance of complication. Healing spells were some of the most difficult to master. The will had to be perfectly honed to the creature's lifeblood.

Carwyn gathered the fawn into his arms and gazed angrily into the trees. "I bet they killed the mother and he got in the way."

Merlin smiled softly. Carwyn may have enjoyed hunting like Arthur, but Gwen's heart was never far from him. He had a hunting code—never kill a mother whose offspring depended on her. Perhaps to some, Carwyn sitting with a crossbow on his back, gently stroking a fawn would have been a contradiction. To Merlin, it was a perfect demonstration of the combination of his parents: strength and compassion.

Merlin ambled over to sit down next to Carwyn. Aithusa nudged the back of Merlin's head, and he reached back to let her nuzzle into his palm. "You don't want me to be the court physician?"

"I think you'd be a good court physician," Carwyn said. "But I don't think you'd like being cooped up in the physician's quarters creating medicines and answering house calls all day."

 _I wouldn't,_ Merlin thought.

"So, no, I don't want you to accept." Carwyn turned to meet Merlin's eyes. "I have a different proposal."

Merlin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And that is..."

Carwyn's gaze hardened. "No Golden Age lasts forever. We'd be naive to assume so...I don't think he's gone, Merlin."

Merlin didn't have to ask who Carwyn met. They'd talked enough about the cloaked sorcerer over the years.

"I don't _really_ want Camelot to ever face danger, but I think it will come whether we want it or not. The Cult of Morgana is held in check now, but we cannot root out the head and that's the true danger."

Merlin stared. He heard in Carwyn's voice the wisdom of kingship. _Where has the time gone?_ The child he'd raised had grown up more than he realized.

"Whether my father comes back or not, Camelot needs our protection. And we have to do more than pore over books and maps."

"What is it you propose?" Merlin asked.

"That magic take its rightful place. That we use it to fight."

"That can be a dangerous path to walk," Merlin warned.

"That's why I need you. You know how to use magic wisely. It's time others joined you in protecting Camelot."

Merlin didn't reply. His heart raced at the idea.

"The knights of Camelot are brave and true hearted," Carwyn continued, "but they're not capable of fighting an enemy strong in dark magic. We need to find those who are. I'll teach weapons; you teach magic. And when he comes, we'll be ready for him."

Merlin put a hand to his chin. How many times had he been the fodder when Arthur trained the knights? And stood to the side while Carwyn did the same? The thought of leading his own magic training stirred his soul.

Merlin held his hand out to Carwyn who took it firmly. "I accept."


	12. Test

Carwyn marched into the armory up to Merlin who was slowly putting on an arming coat. He thrust a parchment under Merlin's nose.

"Twelve! Only twelve! What do you think of that?"

"I'd tell you if I could read it." Merlin grasped Carwyn's wrist and pulled it back so he could read the parchment. Ah. The names of those who had signed up to be tested. He looked to Carwyn. "And what did you expect?"

"More than this," Carwyn grumbled, brow furrowed.

"It's more than I predicted."

Carwyn frowned. "So you knew Camelot is full of cowards?"

"Don't be so hard on your people," Merlin advised. "How many people do you know who _want_ to face off against the greatest swordsman in the kingdom who also happens to be a sorcerer?"

Carwyn drew the parchment back to himself, scanning it. "Well, I am fairly good,"' he mumbled.

"And you know what they say about me," Merlin sighed.

Carwyn twisted his lips. "I guess they wouldn't be eager to face the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth either."

Merlin rolled his eyes. He hated that description, yet everywhere he went it was thrown in his face. He had never thought he could live up to what people expected and most of the time, he was probably a disappointment.

"I see your points, and they're valid," Carwyn said, "but still...only twelve? How can you form an army with twelve men?"

Merlin rested a calming hand on Carwyn's arm. "If we train them well enough, twelve is far more than we need."

"If they all even pass," Carwyn muttered.

"You're worrying too much about this. You haven't tested them yet. Give them a chance."

Carwyn let out breath. "Yes, you're right."

"Even if only half a dozen pass, with the magic skills we intend to teach them, they will be a force to be reckoned with."

Carwyn nodded thoughtfully.

"Now, stop grousing and help your elder into this ridiculous outfit you've talk him into."

Carwyn grinned at Merlin in the padded brown arming coat. "At least you consented to wear _something_ to protect yourself."

"I don't need it."

Carwyn set down the name list and picked up the red brigandine lying on a bench. "Even the great sorcerer Merlin could find himself distracted in battle."

"But we're only testing them today, and I won't need to be protected like this."

"We have to look the part."

Carwyn held the brigandine out. Merlin reluctantly slid his arms into it. Carwyn pulled it tight and began fastening the front,

"How Arthur ever fought in stuff like this," Merlin muttered.

"You get used to it," Carwyn said.

Merlin ran an eye over Carwyn's chain mail. He knew the point of it all. Goodness knows he'd dressed Arthur enough times to be grateful for armor's protection of Camelot's king. But it felt so restrictive and heavy.

"There," Carwyn said, stepping back. "Looks good."

"I never thought I'd see the day," Leon's voice came from the doorway.

Percival entered, a large grin on his face. "You should have worn that a long time ago, Merlin. The ladies won't be able to get enough of you."

Merlin shook his head at the knight's teasing and loathed the heat that rose in his cheeks.

Leon began stripping off his armor. "How many have signed up for your little venture?"

Carwyn shot Merlin a frustrated glance. "Twelve."

"Only twelve?" Percival said, in the process of removing his own armor.

"It's _enough_ ," Merlin assured. Carwyn sighed.

"There's already a crowd gathering," Leon said.

"And we plan to join it," Percival added.

"A crowd?" Carwyn asked.

"After your announcement, word got around," Leon explained. "Who wouldn't want to see the formation of Camelot's first magic army?"

"I don't want the distraction," Carwyn grumbled angrily. "It won't help the test."

Percival flexed his biceps. "We'll keep them far enough back they don't bother you."

Carwyn looked to Merlin with an annoyed expression.

Merlin shrugged. "This is what comes of making the invitation public."

"I wasn't going to limit it to special invitation. My father found his best knights outside the nobility." He eyed Percvial who nodded appreciatively.

Leon sighed. "And because I'm noble..."

"You still count," Carwyn said, laughing.

Merlin had gone silent at the mention of Arthur's best knights. An image of Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan riding and chatting passed through his mind. His chest ached as it always did when he remembered friends that had left the world too soon.

"Merlin? You alright?" Percival asked.

Merlin looked up. "Er...yes. Fine." He clapped Carwyn on the shoulder. "Let's go observe your potential army."

* * *

"What do you think?" Carwyn asked from his place on the wall overlooking the training grounds.

Merlin had noted the crowd, though Percival and Leon had kept their word and had made sure it was quite a ways back. The contenders stood to the side of the yard, sending nervous glances to each other and the subjects that had shown up to observe.

"Droyn and Moeris are here. They've been taught well." Merlin scanned the others. "Those are the only two I know."

"They don't look particularly like knights," Carwyn said to himself.

Merlin guffawed. "Do _I_ look like a knight?"

"Wearing that, it helps," Carwyn smiled.

"You know as well as I it's their magic that matters, not what they look like."

"I know. If it were only me, I wouldn't worry, but an army can also cause fear to its enemies by its appearance."

"I think the first time lightning strikes down from heaven at your word, they'll get the message." Merlin grinned.

"Good point."

"Are you ready?"

Carwyn nodded.

* * *

Carwyn stood in front of the challengers who had lined up horizontally across the training yard. All of them had been fitted with chain mail. He cleared this throat and began to speak loudly, pacing along the line.

"Today, you come here to be tested. Today, you prove your quality. We seek the most dedicated, the most loyal, the most skilled among you. Some of you will pass; others will not. Those who display courage and the will to fight no matter the cost will succeed."

Merlin felt his chest burst with pride, and he blinked back his emotion. _If you could see your son, Arthur. You'd be so proud. He will be a worthy successor to Camelot's throne._

"May destiny decide who among you is worthy," Carwyn concluded. He looked back to Merlin. "The first contender?"

Merlin read from the parchment in his hand. "Phipp, son of Theas," he called out.

A young man of average build stepped forward, a look of determination on his face.

"The rest of you," Carwyn addressed the line, "may sit over there." He indicated a row of benches. As the rest of the challengers obeyed, Carwyn turned his attention to the blond headed man who had come forward. "You will be tested with the sword first. Do you need a moment to prepare?"

"No, sire," the man said. He drew his sword. Carwyn did the same, stepping immediately forward with a slash that was deftly met.

So the morning passed. Carwyn fought each and every one. The break at noon found the contestants being fed on the benches while Merlin and Carwyn retreated to a private tent. Carwyn snacked on a chicken leg as he paced back and forth.

"You should sit," Merlin advised. "You must be exhausted."

"Your turn is next," Carwyn warned him.

"Don't remind me," Merlin murmured. He wasn't worried about facing the contenders, but he really didn't like the crowd. His magic had never been on such display before. During battle was one thing, but to have it scrutinized by a curious crowd felt wrong.

Carwyn took a place at the table and passed the name list over to Merlin. The prince had dotted several names. "Those are the ones who were the most impressive."

Merlin nodded as he chewed a date. "I agree."

"The question is, do we dismiss those who haven't the necessary skill with the sword now, or wait to see the extent of their magic?"

"We should wait," Merlin counseled. "If one of them is particularly powerful, you wouldn't want to lose him. You can teach swordsmanship far easier than magic."

Carwyn nodded. "Alright, then. Finish eating, oh Merlin the Great, and prepare yourself for action."

Merlin let out a laugh, glad Carwyn's tendency to teasing released the tension he was feeling.

* * *

Merlin emerged from the tent, bouncing his shoulders up and down in discomfort. _Ridiculous armor_ , he grumbled to himself. He'd have to get used to it since Carwyn had already decided no matter how magically skilled his army was, they'd wear protection. The challengers had finished eating and were chatting quietly, but when they saw him, they stopped. Merlin read the trepidation in their eyes.

Carwyn stepped out of the tent and sauntered to Merlin's side.

"Am I really that scary?" Merlin asked under his breath.

"Yes," Carwyn replied sincerely. "Just don't kill any of them today."

"I won't," Merlin assured with a smile.

Carwyn marched over to the bench, ordering the challengers to attention. They stood and Carwyn gestured to Merlin. Merlin took a breath. He wasn't really good at speeches, not like Arthur and his son were. He walked over to the line and ran his eye down it.

"Magic is a gift. Some call it a curse, but all of you know better. Magic should be used wisely and for the good of your fellow men. It should guard and protect. Today you can prove that magic has a rightful place in Camelot." Merlin lowered his voice. "And don't be too worried. I've assured Prince Carwyn I don't plan on killing any of you today."

There was a release of pent up tension as several chuckled.

"Phipp, son of Theas..."

"We have another challenger." Merlin turned at Gwen's voice. The queen had strolled into the training yard.

"Mother?" Carwyn questioned.

"Someone has appealed to me, and I wish you to test them."

Carwyn glanced behind her. "Then where is he?"

"Here," a strong voice proclaimed. Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise and Carwyn gawked. A young woman strode forwards, dressed in what Merlin recognized as the queen's own armor. The challengers behind him muttered amongst themselves.

Carwyn drew close to his mother as the woman took a place at her side. His eyes shifted between the young woman and Gwen. He spoke lowly. "She's a girl."

"So am I," Gwen said.

"Yes, but you're the queen. You _have_ to know how to fight."

Gwen fixed her son with a glaring stare.

"I'm not saying girls can't fight, but knights have always been men."

"Maybe it's time that changed."

"Mother..."

Merlin stepped to Carwyn's side. "Your father chose knights outside the nobility. He married a servant girl and befriended me."

Carwyn shot Merlin a frustrated look that proclaimed he wasn't helping and continued to argue with his mother. "Woman are just...they can get hurt easily in battle."

"I'll fight you both at once." Both Merlin and Carwyn looked to the young lady at her declaration.

"You don't need to..." Merlin started, but Carwyn interrupted.

"Fine. Yes. Right now."

The young woman nodded once and paced back into the training yard.

Gwen smirked and left the training field to observe from the sidelines at the same time Merlin gripped Carwyn's arm. "What are you doing? We wouldn't even make _them_ do this." He pointed at the challengers still standing in a line, whispering back and forth to each other.

"She'll see sense then," Carwyn explained. "She can't go into battle. Look at her."

Merlin ran an eye over the young woman standing tall, waiting for them. She was a little short, even for a woman. Her braided copper hair was wound in a circlet on top of her head. He wondered if she was descended from the Germanic tribes—her grey eyes reflected their legendary ferocity. She was brave if perhaps foolhardy.

"Looks can be deceiving," Merlin commented.

"Not this time," Carwyn declared, drawing his sword. "Come on."

Merlin paced next to him. "Don't hurt her."

"I won't, but I'm not going easy either."

Carwyn squared off in front of the woman. He raised his sword in front of his face and lowered it. The woman did the same. Carwyn surged forwards. Merlin had already determined to stop this before it began. His eyes flashed gold and he raised a hand to fling the woman out of harm's way. He was shocked when her own eyes gleamed and she threw up her left hand, pushing back against his throw. He even stepped back a couple paces. His wide eyes stared. Who was this young woman?

The woman met Carwyn's sword, and pushed back mightily. Carwyn took a step back, surprised at her strength. Her eyes glowed gold and Carwyn yelped as his sword grew hot within seconds. He dropped it. As Carwyn's own eyes changed color as he called the sword back to his hand, Merlin swirled air around the woman, spinning faster and faster. She spoke a spell Merlin couldn't hear, but as she didn't move a centimeter, he assumed she'd rooted herself to the spot.

When Carwyn armed again, Merlin let the wind die down. Carwyn tried his own throwing spell, but the girl blocked him as she had Merlin. Carwyn thrust in several directions and she met his sword each time. Merlin hesitated. He didn't really want to hurt her. He hadn't planned on anyone being this strong. He spied a bucket of apples provided for the nourishment of the contenders. He sent them zinging out one by one right toward the woman and gaped when they reached her. She had already flung Carwyn back with her magic, then turned, eyes aglow as she sent each apple into her blade, slicing every one in half.

Merlin couldn't help but think that if he were twenty years younger he'd stop the fight right here and now and ask the woman dine with him.

The woman raised her own hand and Merlin realized she had pinned Carwyn to the ground. He struggled against her hold, but she stalked over and laid her sword to his throat. Merlin ripped the flames from a fire that burned nearby and sped them towards the woman. They encircled her, a floating, fiery ring. She pulled her sword back, eyes darting here and there. As she was distracted, Merlin raised her in the air, pinning her arms to her sides. He sent the flames back to the fire and set the woman on the ground, but didn't release her. He sprinted up to her, staring into her eyes.

She met his gaze without flinching. "Victory is yours, Emrys."

Merlin smiled as understanding dawned, and he let her go. She sheathed her sword. "You're a Druid."

"Yes."

"I thought Druids were peaceful," Carwyn groaned from the ground.

"It is my destiny to fight beside you," the young woman said. She leaned down to give the prince a hand up.

Carwyn accepted her aid and ran a hand through his hair when he was back on his feet. "Destiny or not, you're in."


	13. Training

Word of the young woman who had shown up and defeated the prince spread like wildfire. The crowd observing grew, many pointing at the young woman who now occupied the bench. The other contenders eyed her suspiciously, and Merlin noted, with a little healthy fear.

Merlin faced each of the other challengers, but none compared to the young woman, although several did quite well and he saw their potential. In the end, seven passed and were invited into the castle for a feast in celebration.

Merlin sat at the head table. Gwen as queen took the center seat, Carwyn to her right, Merlin to her left. As they ate and chatted, Merlin studied each of the soldiers that now composed their army of magic wielders, interested to observe them in a relaxed setting.

Droyn and Moeris had both passed without surprise from Merlin. He knew their magic studies to be sound and had often talked to each as he passed through Camelot's main square. Both were young, barely of age, but eager to learn. They were outgoing, conversing easily.

Alec was a noble's son and a bit aloof. He didn't join in as much, but laughed here and there at a joke.

Pello reminded him of himself at a younger age—tall, gangly, a bit awkward, but unaware of it. He'd end up the lovable brother of the group Merlin had no doubt.

Phipp was serious. He didn't join in the laughter, but gathered to himself a group that was caught up in a political discussion concerning neighboring kingdoms.

Reynfrey seemed the kindest. He kept taking plates from the servants and dishing out their contents to those around him, engaging the servants in conversation as he did so. He was also the oldest, though Merlin still had him beat by a decade.

And then there was Nyra. Predictably, she occupied most of Merlin's attention. She had changed into a simple green dress with a blue outer garment. Her hair remained the same, twisted into a circlet. She didn't talk much, answering questions asked of her, but mainly keeping to herself.

Merlin leaned over to Gwen. "Who is she?"

Gwen followed his eyes and smiled. "I don't know. She asked for an audience, I granted it to her, and she made her appeal...It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up."

Merlin smiled as well. "I'm surprised you hadn't encouraged female knights until now."

Gwen tilted her head. "I didn't want to ask for too much concession too fast. I'm already the servant girl turned queen, and that's been difficult enough for many to accept. And then Carwyn's magic became known. I've learned to push people only a little at a time. Let them get used to one idea before you introduce another."

Merlin once again admired Gwen. If Arthur could have seen her, he would have realized what good hands his kingdom was in. Maybe he had known. After all, he had chosen her as his successor.

"She's leaving," Gwen said.

Merlin looked over to see the young woman moving to a side door.

"This would be a good time to find the answers you seek." Gwen looked at him pointedly. Better for them all if they knew who she was.

Merlin dipped his fingers in the scented water provided for rinsing and rose from his seat. He made his way around the room to the side door and exited. He ambled down a short hall, then turned into a longer one. Nyra was standing at a window, beams of moonlight illuminating her. As Merlin approached, he noticed a small Triskelion tattoo at the nape of her neck.

Merlin cleared his throat and she turned, startled. "Are you alright?"

"I'm not used to so many people," she answered. "The noise, the candlelight. I prefer to be out there." She pointed to the window.

Merlin walked up to stand next to her. He looked out at the cloudless winter sky and its sharp, twinkling jewels. "To be honest, I do as well."

She smiled, continuing to stare out the window.

"May I ask a question?"

"Certainly," she said, looking to him.

"Druids are known for healing and prophecy, yet you fight. Why?"

She stared at him for a bit, her brow furrowed in thought. When she spoke, her voice was hushed. "My father knew you."

"Who is he?"

"Iseldir."

Merlin stared. The name threw him back to memory once more—the man had received the child Mordred from Arthur, been in possession of the Cup of Life, saved Leon's life with it, and ordered him to take care of the cup when it was given to Arthur. "I remember him."

Nyra looked back out the window. "My mother was his second wife, and I'm the daughter of his old age."

"Does he live?"

Nyra bowed her head. "He passed beyond the veil a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," Merlin spoke regretfully.

"It's only nature being itself," Nyra replied quietly.

"Your mother?"

"She lives. She grew up as a tribal wanderer."

Merlin nodded to himself. This confirmed his suspicions regarding her heritage.

"She met my father, and he found love again." Nyra smiled softly. "But I was a problem." Her eyes grew troubled.

"Why?" Merlin asked gently.

Nyra glanced at Merlin out of her peripheral vision. "You know what it is to be different." She folded her arms over her waist. "I had limited healing ability and no prophetic power. All I ever wanted to do was fight."

Merlin could imagine how out of place the young woman must have been.

"I fashioned weapons and playacted battles. Oh, how many lectures I endured!" She laughed quietly.

Merlin was reminded of Gaius and all the times the physician had taken him to task. "I understand."

Nyra stared into his eyes. "I think you do. My father was exasperated with me. He finally took me to the Crystal Cave, wanting to know my reason for existence."

At the mention of the cave, Merlin felt the weight of the past—his destiny and Camlann. "What did it show you?" he whispered, recalling his own fear when he'd first seen visions of the future.

"I was grown up, dressed in armor, and fighting. I was a warrior." Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, then her voice came out so very quiet. "I saw the prince of Camelot and myself fighting beside him."

"What did your father think of that?"

"He didn't like it, but even he knew he couldn't do much about it. I found it somehow comforting to know my purpose, and yet..." Her eyes moved up to the left as she tried to find the word.

"Terrifying," Merlin finished.

"Yes." Her gaze fell back on him. "Like I won't be able to achieve what I've been shown I'm supposed to."

 _Or you'll achieve it and still feel like you failed,_ Merlin said to himself. "The future is a hard burden to bear."

"I suppose you know better than most." She smiled kindly at the older warlock. "I was passing through a village in Camelot when I heard the announcement concerning the trials for the new army. I knew it was time, so I came."

The young Druid didn't say anything more, and Merlin studied her in the silence. He wondered what destiny had in store for her and why it had sent her into their lives. Merlin made to walk away, but Nyra reached out suddenly and touched his arm.

"I've told you my history because you are Emrys. You are respected highly among my people. And I think that if I didn't tell you, you would discover it anyway. But I don't wish anyone else to know that I follow a future foretold. I don't want it to change how I'm seen."

"I will keep it to myself. I promise you," Merlin vowed.

"Thank you, Emrys."

"Would you like me to escort you back to the feast?"

Nyra glanced down the hall and sucked in a large breath. "I will see what stamina I possess."

Merlin held out his arm and she laid her hand on it, letting him draw her back to the celebration.

* * *

"Pello, go!" Alec cried out.

Pello tumbled forwards, but shot a blast of energy from his hands. It hit his target, though the impact was absorbed easily.

Moeris looked to Droyn. "On me!" Droyn rushed to his side, meeting the two swords that slashed at them both.

A jet of fire flared towards Reynfrey who was occupied fighting another sword. Phipp jumped in front of it, turning his back and conjuring a defensive shield.

Across the training yard, Merlin and Nyra stood parallel to each other, the older warlock hurling various elemental spells of wind and fire, and the Druid directing the four swords that floated in the air slashing as if they were separate attackers.

Carwyn marched back and forth outside the action, observing. In the last six months, the training of his elite magic warriors had fallen into a daily routine. The morning consisted of magic lessons mainly from Merlin, though the prince added his two bits at times. In the afternoon, they practiced all they had learned. At first, Merlin took position on one side of the training yard and took on all seven soldiers at once. But Nyra soon joined him in playing antagonist, providing even more of a challenge for the others.

Now, as Merlin conjured a violent wind to knock the soldiers off their feet, he sent a sidelong glance to Nyra. He had never been so impressed by another sorcerer as he was by the Druid. She had dedicated herself to the art of fighting and it showed.

At the battle of Camlann, he had employed the vast power of lightning, singling out the Saxons for its electric energy. He recalled how difficult it had been to target individuals as he envisioned a web of tentacles striking those he chose. To tell the truth, he hadn't liked combat. Desire to aid Arthur drove him to use his magic in such a way, but the enormity of his own power scared him, that he might accidentally mess up and hurt someone on his side.

Now as he looked sideways at Nyra, he marveled again at her control. She easily handled the multiple swords as if doing so were child's play. Every magic skill of fighting and defense seemed to be at her disposal. And this concerned Merlin.

He wasn't worried about her ability to control her skills, nor her well intentioned use of them. He felt uneasy that destiny had sent such a woman their way. Why did they need a sorcerer with such a keen ability to kill? What was coming that he couldn't see?

Carwyn caught Merlin's eye and nodded to him. Merlin gave a curt nod in answer and spun his right hand in the air. The sky began to darken, but only over the training yard. Clouds coalesced, dense and heavy. A downpour began to fall.

Everyone but Nyra was taken aback. Nyra may have been on Merlin's side of the yard, but she hadn't been told about the surprise turn of events. Still, she took it in stride, and Merlin noticed the rain bounced off her. She had conjured an invisible barrier.

Droyn jumped in front of Moeris to deflect a blow from a sword, but slipped in the slick grass. The sword froze in midair. Nyra nodded at Carwyn in thanks. Carwyn didn't just walk around the training and watch idly. He made sure that no one paid for a mistake with their lives.

Phipp cried out to Pello, shooting fire from his hand to counter Merlin's own fire strike that shattered through raindrops, while the lanky young man dodged and swiped at a sword to his side.

Alec and Reynfrey found themselves on the edge of the storm, separated from the others. They looked at each other, then Alec sent a spell into Reynfrey, who took to the air momentarily, flung into the heat of battle once more.

The swords regrouped in the center of the storm and lined up next to each other, then advanced.

"To me!" Alec cried out. Droyn, Moeris, Phipp, Pello, and Reynfrey sprinted to his side. They marched in measured step, swords at the ready, hands outstretched.

Carwyn nodded once more to Merlin who spoke a spell to the violent clouds. They melted away. The swords settled to the ground.

The six soldiers halted, breathing rapidly. Pello and Droyn sank to their knees. All of them were drenched and from the looks of it, quite cold. Merlin shook out his own wet hair. Nyra strode over to him. "That was a nice trick," she proclaimed.

"Carwyn's idea," Merlin said. They'd be called on to fight no matter the weather, and Carwyn wanted them prepared. Plus he wanted to see how they dealt with the unexpected.

"Good!" Carwyn called out, marching into the yard. "But you could be better."

Moeris gasped between breaths. "You always...say that."

"And I'll say it again. We can't afford to slip up. If we face dark magic, there will be no mercy."

"Nyra," Droyn groaned from where he knelt on the ground, massaging his arm. "Why do you have to be so good? I feel like my sword arm's about to fall off."

"Why do you have to whine so much?" Nyra returned, but her eyes twinkled.

Droyn playfully drew water out of the ground, forming it into a ball, and sent it zinging towards the Druid.

Reynfrey raised his hand and directed it back to Droyn. "I'll defend you, my lady," he joked. The ball splashed into Droyn's face and all the soldiers laughed.

"Alright. Alright. Rest," Carwyn ordered as he noticed servants from the kitchen bringing baskets with lunch.

The soldiers eagerly met the servants to take their allotted share. Carwyn approached Merlin and Nyra.

"How do you do it?" Carwyn asked, the question directed to the young woman.

"Do what?"

"Fight with four swords _and_ conjure a barrier. Your focus is split too many ways."

"I don't know how to explain it," Nyra said. "It's like...each action becomes part of my subconscious."

 _She was born to be a warrior,_ Merlin thought to himself. His chest ached at the thought. He had often wondered why he was born, and then when Arthur was dying, he'd put into words what destiny was, that people were born to do different things. At the time he thought he'd been born to serve Arthur alone. He hadn't foreseen he was meant to serve Arthur's heir as well.

"So you can't teach me how you do it?"

Nyra shrugged. "I could _try_."

"But if her skill is a part of her being," Merlin spoke up, "and not yours, you won't learn much."

Carwyn eyed his mentor and sighed.

"Sire! Sire!"

Carwyn, along with Merlin and Nyra, looked to a servant they knew primarily served the queen. "Yes?"

"The contingent sent to Ravenstone has returned."

"And what was the result?" Carwyn inquired with a hint of trepidation.

"Three knights dead. Sir Leon's been wounded."

"How badly?" Merlin asked.

"Grimald's with him. He'll live."

Carwyn looked to Merlin, his eyes fierce. "It's time."

Merlin glanced at Nyra and saw the desire to be set loose in her eyes. He pondered the soldiers eating their lunch. Six months of training. They were skilled, strong, and formidable, but his soul felt troubled.

"At some point, you have to stop practicing and set your foot on the battlefield," Carwyn said, noticing Merlin's hesitation. "We'll never know how prepared we are until we face a challenge."

Merlin bowed his head briefly. "If my prince says it's time, it's time."

* * *

Merlin felt his nerves on edge as he lagged behind his magic companions, his horse walking slowly. He recognized the prickling fear of possible battle. He'd never feared for himself much—his magic had usually given him a leg up. He had worried for Arthur, and as he watched the soldiers in front of him, he worried for them. The last time he'd fought in a battle, he'd lost the person who mattered most in his life.

 _I cannot lose any of them._ He couldn't take any more death, not now, so soon after Gaius had left him. He knew Carwyn would claim he was responsible for his soldiers' lives, and officially, perhaps he was. But Merlin was the oldest by far and their mentor. In his eyes, the weight of their lives rested on his shoulders.

Raiders from Amata had been hitting villages along Camelot's border. They had become more than a nuisance when killing became their primary way of force. Carwyn had actually advised his warriors be sent in first, but Gwen declined. Six months she thought too short a time to forgo the years of combined training of Camelot's finest knights. Now she had capitulated to Carwyn's insistence his sorcerer soldiers meet them head on.

"Let's take up a song!" Reynfrey called out from the front of the riding band.

"Not a song," Phipp grumbled.

Pello's high pitched singsong voice rang out. " _There was a woman, who went down south, to see my grandfather's..._ "

"Not _that_ one!" Alec shouted. "Present company." He glanced back at Nyra.

"I don't know it," Nyra admitted. "But I don't think I want to, either."

Pello cocked his head. "It's just about a girl who goes to..."

"Think, Pello," Droyn interrupted. "Sing it to yourself for a while."

Pello knitted his forehead and mouthed voiceless words.

"Make Phipp sing," Moeris insisted.

"I'm _not_ singing again."

"Pity," Nyra teased. "I rather like your voice."

Phipp turned his head away, but Merlin caught the red in his cheeks.

"Sing, Phipp," Carwyn spoke up from the lead. "Your prince commands it."

Phipp scowled.

"How about I sing with you?" Reynfrey encouraged, pulling back on his horse's reins so he trotted next to his friend. " _Glories of Camelot, come to my side..._ "

All the soldiers began to sing, along with Carwyn and Merlin.

" _Forget not your people,_

 _keep watch for their care._

 _Listen and hear them_

 _and answer their cry._

" _The mountains so strong,_

 _and the rivers that roar,_

 _The wild crashing sea,_

 _and the thunderous storm._

 _They call for your courage,_

 _please lend it this day._

 _"If I should not wake,_

 _at the breaking of dawn,_

 _send me along_

 _to the home of my heart._

 _Glories of Camelot,_

 _bear my soul forth."_

Merlin took a long breath and scanned the suddenly sober eyes of his companions. They'd been trained. They were a skilled band, but still, an unspoken question hung in the air—Would all of them return at the dawn? _None of them will fall_ , Merlin vowed to himself. His gaze shifted to Carwyn. _Least of all you._ He would not let another Pendragon fall victim to battle.

"Ohhhhh," Pello suddenly spoke. "Oh. No. I...My father told me it was about a woman traveling to a minstrel faire."

"She sees a minstrel who's fair alright!" Droyn said.

The tension was broken as all laughed at Pello's sudden realization that his innocent choice of a lusty tavern song might not have been the best on a march towards battle.


	14. Raiders

The band of magic wielders stopped for the night near an outcropping of rock that would protect them from a particularly blustery night and set up camp around a central fire. Merlin insisted on cooking for them, claiming he wouldn't let all those years of feeding the knights of Camelot go to waste. Those who had hesitated to eat what he provided soon changed their tune, admitting what he cooked was quite good.

They chatted for a time, but little by little, each found his pallet and settled to sleep for the night. Carwyn had taken first watch. He sat on the edge of the camp, staring between the dark and his soldiers, his cloak pulled tight, his hood raised. Merlin couldn't sleep, concerns about what might come when they found the raiders too heavy on his mind. He soon rose and wandered to the prince, sinking down next to him huddled in his own cloak.

"Are you alright?" Carwyn inquired.

"I couldn't sleep."

Carwyn turned his eyes to the night. "You've been quiet today."

Merlin supposed he had.

"Are you worried?"

Merlin lowered his eyes. "For you and them. For your lives."

Carwyn let out a breath. "I know I'm supposed to be the ever courageous prince, but I hope it's not weak to worry. They've put their lives in my hands."

" _Our_ hands."

Carwyn turned his head to his guardian. "I won't let you make yourself responsible for them."

"I won't let you not make me," Merlin countered. "You aren't alone in this burden."

Carwyn smiled slightly. "I guess not." He picked at the grass next to him. "To be truthful, it's more than their lives on my mind."

Merlin recognized the softer tone in the prince's voice, the one he used when he needed Merlin's encouragement the most. "What else?"

"I don't think I'll ever live up to him."

"Arthur?" Merlin asked.

Carwyn nodded.

"No one's asking you to."

" _I'm_ asking me to."

"Then stop."

"I can't help it," Carwyn said in frustration. "All the stories. He was wise, humble, just. Everyone loved him."

Merlin ticked off his response on his fingers as he answered. "Arrogant. Condescending. Bossy."

Carwyn grinned and interrupted. "He was until you changed him anyway."

"I didn't change him," Merlin disagreed. "I just helped him see himself more clearly. And he wasn't perfect. Time changes people's perceptions. He was a good man, but everyone has their demons."

Carwyn gazed on him thoughtfully. "Even you?"

"Of course."

"Care to share?"

"There are too many. We'd have to sit here all week."

Carwyn chuckled. "I don't believe that. Not that you don't have demons, but I don't think there are as many as you assume. You always carry too much weight, Merlin."

"Sometimes life makes you carry weight even if you don't want it," Merlin said quietly.

"I know you tried to save my father," Carwyn spoke in a hushed tone. "And I've known all these years you hold that as your greatest failure."

Merlin's heart thumped uncomfortably.

"I don't think my father could ever hold that against you. You and he, your loyalty and commitment to each other—it's legendary now."

Merlin coughed at a knot in his throat and closed his eyes that had moistened.

"Just...don't let his death beat you up anymore. Do it for him...and for me."

Merlin spoke slowly. "I'll try to forgive myself if you stop comparing yourself to him. You're a good prince, farther along than he was in many ways."

Carwyn sighed. "I can try."

They fell into silence. Merlin worked to maintain his composure. Arthur had died and Merlin could never seek his forgiveness for letting it happen. What Carwyn had just said came closest to absolving him of guilt than anything else ever had. But to forgive himself for Arthur's death felt akin to betraying Arthur's final moments. He couldn't do it.

Carwyn's gaze had drifted back to the soldiers sleeping by the fire. Merlin noted a tenderness in the prince's eyes, longing even. He followed his gaze and then smiled with half his mouth. "I don't know if it's appropriate for princes to fall in love with their knights."

Carwyn's head snapped to him. "Love?"

Merlin nodded towards the Druid that occupied his attention. "She is quite a rare find, beautiful and powerful."

"You think I love Nyra? No. No. I hardly know her."

"Love doesn't always have a timetable." His own thoughts meandered to a different time and place.

"Who was she?" Carwyn asked.

Merlin wasn't sure if the prince sensed a deeper story on his part or if he wanted to change the subject, but he obliged regardless. "A Druid like Nyra. I knew her only a few days before she died." Merlin didn't feel a need to tell the rest of the story. He wanted to keep the idea of her unsullied in the mind of the prince.

"How did she die?"

"A sickness." It was true from a certain point of view.

"I'm sorry."

Merlin nodded his thanks.

"Any other women hiding in your past?" Carwyn probed.

"A passing interest here or there, but nothing more." He'd been too hurt by Freya's death, afraid to risk his heart to another. That, and he'd almost abandoned his destiny for her. He was young and naive and would have left with her if he'd been able to. It was then he came to the conclusion that some pleasures in this life were not meant for him.

"Seriously, Merlin?" Carwyn asked as if he thought his guardian was holding out on him.

"It was my destiny to serve your father, not pursue my own personal desires," Merlin explained.

Carwyn raised his eyebrows. "So what's your destiny now?"

Merlin smiled. "To raise you, of course."

"I'm pretty well raised."

"Alright. Then, walk beside you."

Carwyn shook his head. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to own your own life?"

Merlin didn't answer. He _had_ considered it. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been so consumed with protecting and serving Arthur. A wife? His own home? His mother joyfully chasing grandchildren around Ealdor? But it wasn't to be. When he was younger, he realized dragging someone into his life meant he'd either have to lie to them or put them in danger if they knew his secret. By the time Carwyn was born, he'd essentially become a father dedicated to the prince. Asking a woman into his life then meant asking her to take on the burden of the prince as well. Besides, Merlin confessed to himself, he kind of coveted the unconventional family unit he, Gwen, and Carwyn composed.

Merlin didn't respond so long, Carwyn spoke again. "I know I'm not usually the one giving advice, but I think you should do something for yourself for once."

Merlin considered the prince, feeling again his pride and love for Arthur's heir. "I might have considered other outcomes of my life, but I do not regret my loyalty to your father or you." He gestured to Carwyn and the soldiers by the fire. "This _is_ for myself. I don't want anything more than to serve the Pendragon family."

Carwyn stared at him in admiration and whispered, "We don't deserve you, Merlin." He smiled.

"Maybe not," Merlin said, grinning back.

* * *

Merlin held a finger to his lips. He crawled along the ground, Pello and Reynfrey slithering along on their bellies behind him. Merlin cursed the steel plated brigandine he wore. Crawling was entirely impractical in it. He paused on the edge of a rise. The soldiers gathered next to him.

Merlin cupped his hands. "Leoht flote," he whispered. He opened his hands and two blue, glowing spheres emerged. "Offlieg frendspede." The three watched them sail into the air and disappear beyond the ridge.

Not too long after another sphere appeared—red. Then a few seconds later, a yellow one. They settled into Merlin's palm. He closed his hand and eyed Pello and Reynfrey, nodding encouragingly. The others were in position.

An hour before, Droyn and Moeris had returned from scouting, reporting they had seen smoke and their magic sight revealed the raiders from Amata, clear by the description that had been given by the knights of Camelot. If possible, Carwyn wanted to take the raiders alive. They had divided into three groups: Merlin, Pello and Reynfrey; Carwyn, Alec, and Moeris; Nyra, Droyn, and Phipp. They approached from three different directions and near dawn, hoping to catch the raiders unawares.

Their enemy was thirty strong. _Ten for each group_ , Merlin thought. Though of course, the raiders wouldn't divide evenly, but it still meant they could handle it. _Even so, injury or death is not unavoidable._ Merlin himself had been injured in battle before. He promised himself he'd do his best to keep his eyes on all their soldiers. Even now he sent out his sight to the other two groups, confirming they were safe.

Merlin drew his sword, as did Pello and Reynfrey. A sharp whistle sounded and they rose from their hiding place, sprinting over the ridge and down to the raider camp. No one milled about, hopefully all still asleep. Merlin sighted the other groups careening into the camp as well, but before they reached the edge, the raiders suddenly emerged from their tents, screaming. Merlin was taken aback, as he assumed was everyone else, but they went into action nonetheless, testament to Carwyn's training.

Chaos ensued. Swords clashed, spells were chanted. Merlin, seeing they were taken by surprise, conjured a wind that collapsed all the tents in an instant. Several forms struggled against the fallen cloth. At least some were out of the battle for the moment. Pello sent any object near him into the raiders, knocking them off their feet. Reynfrey ripped swords out of their enemies' hands.

Merlin soon realized he shouldn't have been worried about their first foray into battle. For all his fears, the raiders were defeated in minutes. They were magically bound, arms locked behind their backs. Only eight had been unavoidably killed. Carwyn forced them into a central area and ordered his soldiers to guard them.

Carwyn made his way to Merlin, his eyes troubled. "This is wrong. They knew we were coming." Merlin concurred. "And look at their clothing. Some of it is like that of Amata, but not all." Merlin ran an eye over them. He nodded, confirming Carwyn's suspicions.

"There's something deeper here," Merlin muttered.

Carwyn marched back to the raiders with Merlin by his side. "Who is your leader?" Carwyn shouted.

The raiders looked between each other, but said nothing.

"He is." Nyra marched through the prisoners and pointed her sword at one of them.

The man glared at her. He was brawny, bald, and swirling patterns adorned his face.

"How do you know?" Carwyn inquired.

"This tattoo," she said, tracing the pattern with her sword in the air. "It's indicative of someone chosen for their prowess."

"They do this in Amata?" Carwyn asked.

"No." She drew close to Carwyn and Merlin so only they could hear. "I've only seen it on a tribe of sorcerers known for their...willingness to utilize magic in all its forms."

Merlin's countenance darkened. "Dark magic."

Nyra nodded.

"Dark magic wielders in Amata?" Carwyn questioned. He glanced back at the man. "With that marking, he couldn't hide. He'd be killed on sight."

Merlin was reminded of his dream years ago when he'd felt what it had been like for Aithusa to be confined in a pit with Morgana. "It would be even more dangerous to hide there than it was in Camelot."

Carwyn turned back to the tattooed raider. "Who are you?"

The man said nothing, smirking up at the prince.

"You are not from Amata. We know that. Speak now."

The man looked away.

Carwyn leaned into Merlin and whispered. "I'm going to threaten him. Play along."

Merlin cocked his head, wary, but nodded.

"As you have observed," Carwyn said, pacing back and forth in front of the leader, "we are sorcerers. Our skills are unparalleled. And you may have heard of Merlin, the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth."

Merlin tried to look as fierce as possible, but he felt rather silly.

"If you do not speak, he will make you. It is his specialty."

Merlin had to force himself not to balk at the description.

"You think you scare me?" the man sneered.

"Answer me! Who are you? And how did you know we were coming?"

The man pursed his lips together.

"Merlin."

Merlin stalked towards the man, arm outstretched. His eyes glowed. "Gepring." The man's head was thrown back. Merlin didn't feel quite right about this, but he squeezed with his mind, just enough for the man to feel pressure.

Carwyn leaned over him.

"If...I talk...I can't..." the man stammered.

"If you don't talk, you will die."

"I can't...I..."

"If you talk, we will protect you. If you do not, death awaits you. Better to try your luck with us than whoever you are afraid of."

The man's eyes darted between the prince and Merlin.

"He...he is the one you...His name is..." The man gasped and shook violently. Carwyn's gaze snapped to Merlin.

"It's not me!" In fact, he had ceased to do anything when the man began to choke.

Carwyn glanced at his soldiers. "Who is doing this?" They looked at him in surprise, all of them shaking their heads.

The man's neck began to grotesquely crush. Merlin threw up his hand and his eyes went gold. He struggled to fight against whatever was happening. It was like pressing against a thick fog. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. _No. Stop!_

The man crumpled to the ground and stared blankly to the sky. The other raiders' eyes widened in fear.

Merlin breathed quickly. "I couldn't stop it," he murmured. He'd read about this. "A curse was on him. He would die if he dare attempt to mention the name."

Carwyn's brow had creased. "Why is magic involved here?"

Nyra knelt down next to the dead raider. She pulled up each of the man's sleeves, then his pant legs.

"What are you looking for?" Carwyn asked.

"You'll see." She raised the man's shirt. She nodded. "There." A brown tattoo lay along his collarbone.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. It was a diamond with a star in the center.

"It marks those loyal to the dead," Nyra explained. "My people have met one other with this mark. We aided him when he was hurt. He repaid us with treachery. And I know the woman he claimed to serve." Her sober gaze turned on Merlin.

Merlin's heart jumped into his throat. "Morgana."

Nyra nodded. Carwyn sucked in a breath.

Merlin shook his head. "The cult has been pervasive, but they've never done anything like this. What is going on?"

* * *

Miles away, a cloaked figure held a flat crystal in his palm. Merlin's troubled gaze stared back at him through it. The figure smiled. "Yes, Emrys, what does it mean? Pray to any god you hold dear that you do not discover too late for your doom is nigh." A chorus of voices echoed his words with eager anticipation.


	15. Deception

"These attacks will only increase," Simon, a council member known for his pessimism declared.

"I don't believe so," Carwyn countered.

"Because you trust your little band of magic!" Simon accused.

"Our little band of magic as you call us," Merlin came to Carwyn's defense, "has defeated three groups of raiders the knights were unable to."

"Stop. Enough arguing." Gwen's calm voice of reason broke into the discussion. She sighed, looking wearily at those seated at the round table.

Merlin noted the telltale wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She'd borne the weight of the crown for almost twenty years. She wasn't old by any means, but the years of stress took their toll. He didn't envy the fact she dealt with this kind of thing every day. Being by Carwyn's side kept him out of meetings most of the time, though she asked for his presence when she coveted his wisdom.

Merlin scanned the people around the table. Arthur had held court with his knights here. Gwen had expanded the concept. Now, besides Leon, Carwyn, and himself, representatives from all the regions of Camelot sat to advise the queen. Gwen's goal had been to keep peace and unite Camelot across the land. He reflected it was only natural for Simon to be the most upset about the raids as they fell in his region.

"Simon has a point," Gwen went on. "We have seen no abatement no matter what action we take."

"But they _haven't_ increased," Carwyn said.

"And how can you claim that when the attacks keep happening?" Simon challenged.

"Because they seem to be keeping a schedule," Carwyn replied. He nodded to Merlin who unrolled a parchment and handed it to the member next to him so it could be passed around the table.

Carwyn, too full of energy, stood and began to pace around the table. "Cusport, Ravenstone, Lockton, Bromsley, Lusspero. Each about thirty miles distant from the one before. They are moving from the border to our interior."

"You think they mean to reach Camelot?" another member questioned.

"The reason they are undertaking these movements is still unclear," Merlin said.

"And that is what matters most!" Alianor, a member who often dug beyond the surface proclaimed. "What progress has been made on that front?" She looked to Merlin.

Merlin had reviewed all the information he'd gathered on the cult of Morgana and dark magic, but he still couldn't figure out what the point of the attacks were. They had chased down three other groups of raiders. Each contained one person with the swirling tattoos and bearing what they were now calling the mark of Morgana. One more had died attempting to name the person behind it all. Carwyn had stopped asking, not wanting to induce death on those they captured. Merlin had questioned Nyra about this tribe of magic wielders that delved into dark magic, but she said they kept to themselves like the Druids and finding them wasn't easy. She'd only ever met the one.

"Not much," Merlin conceded. "We've considered possibilities. Making the way clear for an easy route to Camelot. Demoralizing our people so their faith in the queen is compromised. Destabilizing our trade routes. But these are only guesses." And Merlin thought none of them were correct. He believed there was a reason that delved into the realm of magic, but that reason eluded him.

"Whatever the reason, they must stop," Simon reasserted.

"I agree," Carwyn said, still moving around the table. "So hear me out."

Merlin observed the members' expressions as they gave Carwyn their attention. Most of them probably thought the prince too young for such authority at the table, but they had to admit he had been more successful than any in finding and taking down the raiders. The common people were beginning to sing the praises of the magic warriors, and Merlin's heart burst with pride and satisfaction to see magic lauded in a kingdom that used to fear it constantly.

"If they keep to this pattern, the next village they will hit is Ingarsoll."

"So we have an advantage," Simon said, for the first time sounding positive.

"Exactly," Carwyn replied. "I will take my soldiers and a contingent of knights to Ingarsoll to await their arrival and protect the village before the attack can take place."

The council members looked at each other, several nodding.

"I agree with the prince's plan and with your approval, give him the task of carrying it out," Gwen said.

The council members voiced their agreement. Carwyn nodded succinctly to his mother.

"It is imperative that none of what we have discussed here today be revealed to anyone outside this chamber," Gwen added, her expression grave.

The council members murmured their assent.

* * *

Merlin strode next to Carwyn to the prince's room, neither speaking. The council meeting had gone better than they expected, but there was more to their plan than they had revealed. Gwen had only sought the council's approval for a portion of it. She'd given her blessing for the other half to them privately.

Carwyn opened the doors to his room. Merlin followed him in, then Carwyn shut them and leaned against the doors to meet seven pairs of eager eyes. "We have approval."

Carwyn's seven elite sorcerers grinned and Droyn whooped. Merlin moved to Carwyn's bed, taking a seat next to Nyra whose gaze was somber.

"Don't celebrate yet," Carwyn warned. "We don't have the leaders of these attackers in our grasp."

"But we will," Moeris insisted.

"If all goes according to plan," Phipp added.

"It's a solid plan," Reynfrey said. "I don't think it will fail."

"Whether it fails or not," Carwyn said, pacing farther into the room, "we do our part. We leave tomorrow for Ingarsoll. I've handpicked the knights coming along with us."

Pello let out a sigh. "Knights."

Carwyn smiled slightly. "We're going to play nice with them, yes?"

The warriors nodded, but not too eagerly. As their reputation for success had grown, their relationship with the knights had become strained. Many of the knights didn't take too kindly to the shift in the people's praises.

"If you make us, _father_ , " Alec spoke sardonically. A smile played on his lips. Merlin smiled as well. The noble had turned out to possess a hidden wit.

Carwyn laughed. "Alright. I know they don't make it easy, but _try_."

His soldiers nodded to each other. Merlin contemplated Carwyn, such a leader at the age of eighteen. He had a charisma that made it easy for his soldiers to trust him, and he treated them as if they were equals. Gwen's insistence that Carwyn learn that all people were of value had paid off. _I think, Arthur, you would be very proud of what your wife and son have accomplished_ _—the_ _just and fair kingdom for all we always dreamed about._ Merlin felt a stab in his heart. He only wished Arthur had been able to see it.

"Then let's get to it. Pack, prepare, and tomorrow we leave at dawn."

The soldiers took to their feet, moving to the door, and chatting with Carwyn as they did so. Nyra didn't move and Merlin turned his attention to her. Her face was clouded with concern.

"What is it?" Merlin asked.

Nyra looked to him. "This plan."

"You disagree with it?"

"So much can go wrong."

"Such as..."

"What if the traitor is in our midst?"

Merlin pondered the soldiers at the door. He had thoroughly vetted each of them himself. "I don't think any of them are a threat," he spoke lowly.

Nyra sighed. "I don't think so either. And I don't think it's any of the council members."

Merlin hoped she was wrong, but she echoed his own worries. Carwyn and his magic warriors would head to Ingarsoll to protect it. That part of the plan had been shared. But right now, each of the council members were also being shadowed. Every time they had found a group of raiders, they had obviously been expected. Gwen and Carwyn suspected someone within the castle walls had tipped them off. Merlin hated the idea. Arthur's reign had been plagued with too many traitors, and he didn't want to face anymore. The goal now was to see if the leak came from the council.

" _You_ don't think so either," Nyra observed.

"Part of me hopes it is. It would make this so much simpler."

"What do you really suspect?"

"It's more what I fear," Merlin said quietly. "That a deep magic is at work and we'll discover it too late."

"Tell the prince."

"I only have my own disquiet," Merlin said. "Carwyn's idea is more likely."

Nyra eyed him. "You submit so easily to him, yet you are his guardian."

"I may be his guardian, but he still ranks above me."

"And that keeps you from telling him?"

"It means I let him be who he is supposed to be," Merlin said definitively. "I didn't raise him to second guess every decision he has to make. And right now, this is the best course." Merlin raised his eyebrows at Nyra pointedly. "It means we have to trust him right now and not give in to our own fears." Goodness knows trying to avoid what he feared had led him to do many things that resulted in horrible consequences.

Nyra sighed and smiled. "Submitting doesn't come easy for some of us."

Merlin smiled back. "No, it doesn't." Nyra followed orders without question, but Merlin knew there was an independent streak in her and if ever she disagreed, it had the potential to overrule her obedience. He looked to the door and Carwyn talking with Pello and Reynfrey. "Even if there is a deeper magic at work, I don't see how we can combat it without knowing what form it will take. And we can't leave the villages vulnerable. We'll go to Ingarsoll, and when we return, we'll see if any traitor has been revealed. Be patient."

Nyra stood. "You're right as always, Emrys." She bowed her head to him and headed to the door.

Merlin watched her go, a bit amazed that he had just heard himself offer the wisdom of patience when so much of his life had been spent sticking his nose into everything. _Maybe I'm growing up after all._

* * *

Dawn found Merlin astride his horse along with the other sorcerer warriors and six knights led by Percival. Percival had no problem with Carwyn's elite crew and was the perfect choice for leadership. As Merlin awaited Carwyn's arrival, Percvial trotted up next to him.

"Good day for a ride, eh?"

Merlin scowled at the sky and its clouds. "Rain," he muttered.

"Maybe." Percival knew how much Merlin hated riding in rain.

"Are your knights alright with this?" Merlin asked, glancing over at them.

"Most of them. Gareth doesn't like it, but he'll do as he's told."

Merlin couldn't help but smirk. Gareth, the child who had despised Carwyn when they were younger, was now forced to follow the prince's lead and acknowledge that his ruler was his superior in rank as well as prowess.

Carwyn appeared walking with Gwen. They stopped when they reached the soldiers, and Gwen addressed them all. "I wish you surefooted travels and success in your endeavors. The hopes of Camelot go with you." She turned to Carwyn, holding him by the shoulders for a moment. Her eyes were troubled. She let him go and he mounted his horse.

"Lead on, Percival," Carwyn commanded. Another wise choice, Merlin thought. To defer to the knights first and set them at ease.

Percvial left Merlin's side. The company began their trek to Ingarsoll. Merlin moved his horse into step next to Carwyn, peering back over his shoulder at Gwen. "She's worried about you."

"Of course," the prince said, looking back himself and waving. "But it's more than that."

"What?"

"A sickness has broken out in Combe. Grimald left three days ago to see to it."

Merlin furrowed his brow. Combe wasn't that far from Ingarsoll.

"She's worried over her people. We've had relative peace until now and she doesn't want to lose it."

"You'll do what you can to mend it," Merlin encouraged the prince.

Carwyn smiled appreciatively at his guardian.

* * *

The trek to Ingarsoll took three days. Tensions between the magic wielders and the knights dissolved during that time so that by the last night of camping, they intermixed as they chatted by the fire. Carwyn even engaged Gareth in discussion about newer fighting techniques. Merlin lay on his pallet, arm propped up, watching the younger generation and remembering all the times he'd traveled around Camelot. _I'm becoming stodgy_ , he chided himself. _Longing for the "good old days" like my own elders._

As if his thoughts could be read, Percival appeared to sit next to him. He handed the warlock a bottle of ale. "It's not the same without them, is it?"

Merlin took the offered bottle. He knew Percival thought of their dead friends, of Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, and above all, Arthur. "It can't ever be the same," he said sadly.

"But that doesn't mean we can't wish it."

"Sometimes I feel too old," Merlin confessed.

Percival nodded. "But we're not dead yet."

"No. Not yet."

Percival clinked his bottle against Merlin's. "To old and dear friends beyond the veil."

Merlin raised his bottle along with Percival and took a long sip in honor of those they hated to live without.

When he settled down to sleep, Merlin closed his eyes, hearing in his mind voices from the past, chats around the fire, and Arthur's particular intonation when he often spoke his name— _Mer_ lin. _I'd give anything for one more insult,_ he reflected as he fell into slumber.

* * *

The next day it rained for the second time, and Merlin moodily huddled in his cloak as he rode. He imagined Arthur teasing him—"You look like a drowned rat, Merlin." At least some memories of the past made him smile.

By mid-day the wind had blown the clouds away. Merlin gloried in the sun's rays, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth. They stopped to eat and had just finished when a horse appeared galloping toward them. Carwyn drew his sword and stood protectively before his soldiers and knights. A boy of about thirteen rode up to them, and Carwyn sheathed his sword.

"Are you riders from the castle of Camelot?" the boy asked in an urgent tone.

"Why do you ask?" Carwyn questioned.

"I've been sent to seek aid there."

"Who sends you?"

"Grimald, the court physician."

Carwyn shared a concerned glance with Merlin, then looked back to the boy. "We are from the castle."

"I thought so," the boy said. "You wear the royal crests."

"What does Grimald need?"

"He wants me to find a sorcerer, Merlin."

Merlin stepped forward. "I'm Merlin."

The boy looked relieved. "I'm from Combe. Grimald needs your help."

"What's wrong?"

"Several people in my village have fallen sick and he tried to help them, but he thinks it has something to do with magic and only you can help."

Merlin had often come to Grimald's aid when magic played a role in a sickness, but he didn't like that he'd have to choose between helping sick villagers and staying with Carwyn. "Tell Grimald I'll come when I..."

"Go, Merlin," Carwyn interrupted.

"I can't leave you now," Merlin protested.

"We won't even reach Ingarsoll until almost nightfall. You can attend the villagers and catch up with us."

"I don't think that's wise."

Carwyn stepped up to the warlock and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking so only Merlin could hear. "You're not our good luck charm. We can go on without you."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the prince making light of the situation. "If the raiders are already at Ingarsoll..."

"If they are, we'll soundly defeat them as we have before. I'm making this decision so you don't have to. Go to Combe. They need your help."

Merlin nodded reluctantly, turning back to the camp to sling his bag over his shoulder, then swinging up on his mount. He stopped next to Carwyn. "I'll be at your side tonight. Don't do anything stupid."

Carwyn grinned. "Only if it wins a battle."

Merlin shook his head at the prince and turned to the boy, riding away to the north.

* * *

A couple hours passed before Combe appeared on the horizon. The boy had tried to describe the symptoms of the illness to Merlin, but the the details were vague and Merlin didn't think he could work out a solution until he examined a victim in person. He hoped for a quick fix.

When they drew near the village, Merlin perceived Grimald standing outside the first house. He raised his hand in greeting and Merlin waved back. When they reached him, Grimald nodded to the boy.

"Thank you, Julian."

The boy nodded back and rode away into the village.

Merlin dismounted. He noticed beads of sweat on Grimald's forehead. Had he caught this illness, too? "Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine...Well, no."

"What's wrong?"

"This illness is too complicated and it's infecting all the villagers one by one."

"Describe it to me."

Grimald gestured for Merlin to follow him into the village. "It begins with a fever, but nothing I do will bring it down. Then there appear these...wounds."

"Wounds?"

"As if they have been bruised in their sleep."

Merlin's brow creased. It didn't sound normal for certain. He grew more concerned as they moved farther in. The streets were deserted, as if everyone were already dead. _Probably hiding in their homes for fear of the illness._

Grimald halted in front of a large community building. "Most of them are in here, except for the ones who are too afraid to leave their homes."

"I'll see what I can do."

Grimald swallowed nervously, and pulled open the door. Merlin stepped inside. Candles lit the interior and various figures lay on cots. Merlin began to lean down to one, but Grimald's voice whispered behind him. "I'm sorry, Merlin. I had to. They said they'd kill my family if I didn't."

* * *

Percival called a sudden halt. "Prince Carwyn!" he shouted. Carwyn cantered to the front and sidled up next to the knight. Percival pointed.

Carwyn stared at a contingent of horses galloping towards them. He sent his sight out to meet them, then drew it back abruptly. "Raiders." This answered the question then. They had been informed his army sought to reach Ingarsoll before the attack.

Carwyn turned in his saddle to shout to his soldiers. "Sorcerers to me! We take the lead. Knights to the back."

His orders were obeyed as the inevitability of battle careened towards them.

* * *

Merlin jumped up and backed away. The figures rose from their cots. He now realized they were all clothed in black robes and hoods. He glanced once at Grimald whose face was constricted in pain. Before he could do anything about it, the physician crumpled to the ground.

Merlin found himself surrounded on all sides. He heard a chorus of whistles and his eyes glowed gold as time slowed. A dozen sleeping darts were headed towards him. He caught them each individually with his mind and they froze right before they hit him. They fell to the floor.

He started to incant a spell, but all the hooded figures shouted at once. "Adumbe!"

Merlin felt an invisible hand slide into his throat. He gagged and fought back vomit. The figures enclosed around him. He was unable to yell, but his golden eyes shone and his mind fought back in spite of their spell. Several started to scream as he raised the temperature of their bodies in an instant.

* * *

"For Camelot!" Carwyn roared, his horse plunging to meet the line of raiders. He slashed right, then left and each found its mark, knocking two raiders from their horses. He shouted a spell and three went down as their horses tripped.

A sword swung towards his face, but a blade caught it right before it sliced through him. Nyra grinned from her horse.

A deep shout pierced the air and Carwyn felt himself lifted from his horse and slammed into the ground. The air was forced out of his lungs and he tried to breathe. He craned his neck up to see everyone else on the ground as well and stalking towards him another raider with swirling tattoos. He sucked desperately, pulling air back into his lungs and stood, his sword at the ready to meet the leader.

* * *

Half of Merlin's attackers writhed on the ground as burns laced their bodies. Merlin's eyes bulged as he tried to force back the spell that silenced him. He didn't have much time to do so as the remaining attackers shrieked another spell in unison. He recognized it as a spell to bind his will and turned all his attention to it. His eyes grew piercingly gold as his mind forced back the chains thrown at it.

Merlin raised his hands and wind swirled inside the building, sparking as an electric charge built within it. Lightning zapped from the whirlwind and another attacker collapsed.

* * *

Carwyn charged. The leader met his attack, their swords clashing. The leader spoke a spell; a jet of fire flamed out of his hand. Carwyn barely dodged it and thrust at the man's chest. His sword was blocked, but not before Carwyn cast his own spell, crying out, "Wipscufan!"

The leader was knocked head over heels. Carwyn sprinted to him and lay his sword against the man's throat. Instead of capitulating, the leader smirked. "Morgana Pendragon benote min deadlicnes, grip dreor Arthur." Carwyn's sword ripped from his hand, but instead of plunging into the prince, it ripped through the leader's throat, killing him instantly.

Carwyn backed away, shaken. The sword yanked itself out of the leader and turned to Carwyn. Carwyn screamed, "Abric!" The sword shuddered against Carwyn's spell, then broke free, aiming for him.

* * *

Electric strikes shattered the building. Light exploded in from outside. Merlin clutched at his throat, desperate to remove the hand gagging him. He concentrated all his effort onto grasping the hand, and it began to slither upwards out of his mouth. He pushed harder and blinked as sweat stung his eyes. Then it shot out with force and Merlin gasped, sucking in precious air. Merlin glanced around. All the attackers lay on the ground, dead or unconscious.

Merlin crawled over to Grimald. The physician's blank eyes stared into nothing. Merlin put a hand to his neck. No pulse. He felt his eyes begin to water. "Who...who..." He couldn't get out the words, his throat raw. _Who did this to you? Who made you turn on us?_

* * *

The blade pursued Carwyn wherever he went. Nyra was the first to see what was happening. She retrieved every sword abandoned in the heat of battle with her magic, sending them all against the one targeting the prince. The sword was halted momentarily, but as it collided with each sword she wielded, the swords shattered. Nyra shook her head as each explosion rippled through her mind.

Carwyn had taken up an enemy sword and rushed the enchanted sword. Nyra ran to his side. The blade suddenly turned and made to strike the Druid. Carwyn cried out, flinging himself through the air. He screamed as the sword found its victim.

* * *

A slow clapping sounded behind Merlin. He jerked around to behold another hooded person coming towards him. His eyes flashed gold, but his spell was met by a solid wall. Merlin shook as it rebounded and he was thrown across broken stone into the village streets.

He pushed himself up on his elbows. He incanted another spell with his mind, but cried out when he felt it take hold of himself. His skin began to burn and he ceased the spell.

Merlin breathed in and out shallowly. He recalled in his studies on dark magic a concoction that could be brewed and swallowed, giving a sorcerer the ability to turn magic back on whoever attacked him. The ingredients were rare and the exact amount to ingest had to be precise or the sorcerer could damage his magic ability permanently. The cloaked person moving towards him had obviously felt the risk worth it, and Merlin had no doubt who he was.

Merlin stood on wobbly legs and drew his sword. He couldn't incant spells, but he could fight.

"A sword?" a familiar voice came from the hood, followed by laughter. The man reached up and flung back his hood.

Merlin stared at the man whose return he had feared. He was on the younger side of middle aged, bright blue eyes, long, unruly blond hair, and a blond beard. Merlin had never seen him before in his life.

"You won't need it. I surrender." The man held his hands out from his body.

Merlin didn't move. "Who...are...you?"

"I said, 'I surrender.' Come. Arrest me."

Merlin held his ground.

"Ah, well, then...Prowend deorcnes pricae."

Merlin glanced down when he felt a tingling in his leg. The tail of a black scorpion had jabbed through his pants to embed in his skin. Merlin reached down and yanked it out. He began to tremble and sank to the ground as his vision blurred. He rolled onto his back, closing his eyes to seek out the poison coursing through his veins.

"Don't worry, Emrys," he heard the voice of his enemy. "I won't let it kill you. Stop struggling and I'll reverse the effects."

Merlin ignored the advice. He strained to push the poison out of the wound.

"Even you can't fight for long. This sting is beyond any cure except the one I know."

Merlin's chest ached. The poison advanced. He felt it burning along his veins, damaging his blood vessels. If it lasted much longer, they'd burst.

"I vow to heal you. You can trust me."

Merlin didn't believe the voice for an instant, but he could fight no longer, too drained from all the power he'd expended. He let go, succumbing to the poison.

"It is time," he heard the voice say as he lost consciousness, "to face the truth."


	16. Truth

_The black scorpion's sting reverberated through his body. He shook and fell, trying to push back the inevitable. He couldn't give in to it, but he had no choice. He let darkness consume him._

"No. He needs us. No." Carwyn heard his own voice mumbling from a distance. _Wake up. Wake up. I must wake up!_ Carwyn fought his paralyzed body. _No! Wake up now!_ He shot up, screaming, "Merlin!"

The sudden movement caused tremendous pain on the right side of his chest. He sucked in a dizzying breath, then turned to the side and vomited violently. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and felt strong arms on his shoulders supporting him. A damp cloth was sponged over his face.

"Come on, sire. Lie down." Carwyn recognized the deep voice of Percival. He let himself he guided to his back. A copper headed woman leaned over him, the cloth in her hands. "Nyra," he muttered shakily. Now he remembered how he'd tried to stop her from being impaled by a sword. He'd taken the blow instead.

Carwyn moved his left hand to the right side of his chest. He felt a bandage that had been tightly woven around his upper body. "I'm wounded," he stated.

Nyra nodded. "It was deep. Reynfrey healed you as much as he was able to."

Reynfrey's face hovered above him. "I did what I could. I wish I could do more."

Carwyn managed a wan smile. "I'm not dead, so it must be good enough."

Reynfrey smiled back.

Nyra continued to look serious. "It still could become infected. We need to get you back to Camelot."

"The battle?" Carwyn asked, ignoring Nyra's advice.

"We won." That was Phipp. Carwyn turned his head to see his warriors all sitting nearby, their eyes full of concern.

"The knights?"

Percival touched his right arm and Carwyn turned to him. "Four lost."

Carwyn stared for a moment, then swallowed hard. Four out of six. What had he been thinking bringing helpless knights along who had no skill in magic? "Who?" he whispered.

"Rosser, Anwen, Beraxa, Gareth."

Gareth. The child he'd been antagonized by as a boy. He'd purposefully gone out of his way to befriend the man, now a brave and honorable knight.

Carwyn gazed at the bright blue sky, too beautiful for the moment. How could he lose them? He closed his eyes against a rare thing—tears. Merlin's voice suddenly sounded in his ears, speaking a piece of wisdom from some time ago: _I hope you never have to battle, but if you do, you will lose men. It's never easy to realize you sent them to their deaths. It was never easy for your father, either. Feel their loss, but remember that you are bound to lose men if you fight for what's right._

"Carwyn?"

The prince opened his eyes, struck by Nyra calling him tenderly by his familiar name. She'd never said it before. Her brow was furrowed with worry. "We must return to Camelot. We cannot delay for your sake."

Carwyn felt sudden panic. "No."

"Sire..." Percival started.

"No. We need to retrieve Merlin first."

"Merlin is still at Combe," Nyra explained slowly, as if he'd forgotten.

"Then we go to Combe." Carwyn pushed himself up, fighting back another urge to heave.

"You shouldn't move so much," Reynfrey insisted.

Carwyn made to stand and seeing as he wouldn't give up, Percival aided him, letting the prince hang onto his arm. Carwyn faced those left in his army. "We won't leave Merlin behind. We go to bring him with us. That is my order."

* * *

Merlin drew in a shaky breath and moaned softly. His body ached like he'd fought a dozen matches with Percival. Confused, he caught the scent of damp earth. Even through his eyelids he sensed a stark darkness. He tried to move his hands and a jingling accompanied them. He opened his eyes.

A dim light glowed around him. He made to draw his hands to his face, but they resisted. Merlin pushed himself up on his elbows. He lay on his back. He perceived that his wrists had been restrained in cuffs secured by lengths of chain bolted into a hard rock floor. He couldn't draw them up because the chains were too short. Merlin sat up, letting his arms rest at his sides. More jingling. His bare ankles were secured as well; his boots were missing. He could bend his knees but not pull them into his chest.

Merlin cast his gaze around what he presumed to be a jail cell, though unique. The dim light came from translucent black walls that created a small room octagonal in shape. Merlin recalled his last moments before he'd found himself here. He'd been lured into a trap by Grimald, or more precisely, the cloaked sorcerer who had let Merlin see him for the first time. Merlin attempted to put a hand to his head, but the chains prevented him again.

Merlin scowled and his eyes shone gold. He yelped and dropped his hands, sucking in a sharp breath. His wrists and ankles stung as if he'd burned himself on a hot poker. He looked down at his right wrist and twisted it back and forth, wincing as he did so. He could see a slight pink ring on his skin.

Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He grit his teeth and ventured another spell. He bit back a cry as his wrists and ankles screamed in pain. He stopped the spell and checked his wrist. The pink had deepened. Merlin's heart thumped harshly in his chest. _What is this magic?_

Merlin had rarely been afraid for himself during his lifetime. Maybe he'd been too cocky, but having the gift of magic since he was born provided an advantage most did not have. His fears had usually been turned to others' lives and protection, Arthur's above all. He could count on one hand the times in the past he'd been afraid for himself: when he'd been chained by Morgause and Morgana, facing the Dorocha, when Morgana had told him the fommoroh would take away his very being, when his magic had been removed and he was almost killed by a bandit on the way to the Crystal Cave, when Arthur died. And now.

 _Why am I here? What is going to happen in this room?_ Merlin peered at the faintly glowing walls. He felt magic here—deep, ancient, hidden, and unsettling. This place had a purpose and what it might be frightened him.

A creaking drew his attention to a handle-less door in front of him. Merlin steeled himself, trying to appear far more composed than he felt. The door revealed a dark hall, but Merlin only glimpsed it briefly as the cloaked sorcerer entered and quickly shut the door. Actually, he had discarded the cloak and now wore a simple black robe. He stared at his captive. Merlin met his eyes unflinching.

The sorcerer marched across to Merlin and grasped at one of his chained wrists. Merlin pulled back and glared at him. The man let go, stepping away from him. "I see you tried to escape them already." He smiled wickedly. "I told you long ago you had a weakness—you do not employ dark magic. I thought perhaps you might study it then."

Merlin blinked his eyes, trying to look impassive, but the man smiled knowingly.

"You did study it, but you still refuse to use it." He shook his head. "All your power and you limit yourself. Such a mistake, Emrys. Those," he pointed to the chains binding the warlock. "You can keep trying spells, but you'll only hurt yourself further. Did you think Uther found all the magic objects during the Purge? Many were hidden away from him, including the cuffs you now wear."

Merlin wasn't surprised. He was sure many magic items had been hidden by those afraid to use them.

"In a time where magic reigned, it would have been wise to have something such as these chains, wouldn't it? Else how could you punish the sorcerer who went awry?"

The man's eyes twinkled. He was obviously getting much joy out of seeing the warlock at his mercy.

"Who are you?" Merlin asked, his voice quiet and still a bit hoarse. "What have I done to you?"

The man's face fell, and his eyes darkened. "All in good time."

After Merlin's encounter with the sorcerer when Carwyn was a child, he'd thought long and hard over the one phrase that might identify him: _My own kin the first martyr of the new reign._ Merlin hadn't been certain which reign was meant. If he meant Uther's reign, Merlin didn't know if he referred to someone executed in the public square, or someone killed during an assault. Looking back over records, he found nothing conclusive. The statement could also refer to Arthur's reign, but Merlin couldn't think of anyone Arthur had killed that could be described as a martyr.

"For now, you may call me Rankin."

Rankin. It wasn't a familiar name.

"You know, really I should thank you, at least for one thing."

When Rankin didn't continue, Merlin asked, "For what?"

"Leading the queen to make magic lawful. You gave me the legal means to study magic."

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, I'm not like you. I wasn't born to magic. I've spent years honing my skills, pushing my limits. I knew I would have to be ready to face you some day. I was too eager ten years ago. This time my plan was completed flawlessly."

Merlin stared at the sorcerer. "The raiders, the villages, Grimald. All of it. You killed all those people to get me."

Rankin grinned. "A bit complicated, I agree, but with Merlin the Great Sorcerer of the Age, it pays to be meticulous."

Merlin swallowed slowly. So this was revenge. He stared down the sorcerer. "If it's torture you plan, then get on with it."

Rankin laughed. "As much as I would take pleasure in seeing you bloodied and bruised on this floor, that is not your fate. What will happen to you is much worse. You will face yourself."

"Myself?"

Rankin continued to chuckle. "They say Morgana had you in her hands more than once, but she never knew who you were. I do. And I know exactly what to do with you." He paced around the room, raising his hands to gesture at the glimmering walls. Merlin turned his neck to follow him. "I'm not going to torture you, Emrys. I'm going to make you listen to _them_."

Merlin wondered for a brief moment if this man was crazy, though he seemed sane enough.

Rankin stopped pacing when he circled back to the door. His voice grew deadly quiet. "The people of Camelot call you Merlin, the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth. They don't know who you really are. Merlin the Deceiver. Merlin the Poisoner. Merlin the Murderer. They don't know the darkness in your soul."

Merlin's heart stuttered. This man sounded like he knew all his secrets intimately, all the burdens and fears he kept buried deep inside. "Why do you call me these?" Merlin whispered.

"You know as well as I the veil between the living and the dead isn't as solid as people think. I have heard the tales of voices from your past. Tell me, have you never thought of bringing back your precious king so you could see him one more time?"

Once again Merlin wished he had the ability to hide his earnest eyes. Of course he had thought of such a thing, but necromancy was a dark magic he had experienced too often. It brought pain and misery, and it would dishonor the man he cherished. "I would never turn Arthur into an empty shade," he growled.

Rankin waved a dismissive hand. "There's no reason to try anyway. I don't think the king is dead, at least, not as we think of it. He's never answered me."

Merlin still wasn't clear what the sorcerer was talking about, but he felt relief to hear that Arthur was out of his grasp. Somehow, the once and future king was protected from evil such as this.

"In truth, certain of Arthur's enemies intended to use this very chamber as his punishment. Uther before him, but that king escaped through a different death. What an irony that it will speak to you instead."

"You hold me guilty of Uther's crimes?" Merlin asked, grasping at any hints as to the sorcerer's motivation.

Rankin's tone became bitter. "Of your own, Emrys. And they are many enough." He strode back to the door and spoke to it. "Hlyste pa heafodwope paes feorhcynnes ond aetyne." Merlin listened intently, memorizing the spell. The door opened. Rankin leaned down for a moment and then pulled back inside. He held a tray in his hand. He walked up to Merlin and set it on the floor.

Merlin looked upon a meal—bread, cheese, fruit, baked fish, and a cup of watered wine. He glanced back at the sorcerer called Rankin, standing at the door. "I give you my word your food is safe. I have no desire to poison you. I saved you once from the hellfire scorpion, and I hope that is proof you can believe what I say. I shall return when you have finished and then we will awaken these walls and see what they have to say to the mighty Emrys." The man smiled, exited, and shut the door.

Merlin ran an eye over the meal, his stomach growling. He wished he could incant a spell to check for poison. He glanced at the door. The trouble was, he did believe Rankin. The sorcerer wouldn't go through all this and torture him so mundanely.

Merlin bent over awkwardly to his right side, picking up the cup of wine and drinking gingerly, soothing his parched throat. He next turned to the fish and chewed slowly. He sat up and craned his neck to take in the walls of the room. His heart skipped a beat. _What do you want of me? What will you tell me?_

* * *

The warriors and knights reached Combe right before nightfall. Carwyn had insisted on riding on his own, though he grit his teeth the entire time. Percival halted at the first house, waiting for Carwyn to trot up alongside him.

The prince peered into the village. "No one is out." They could be inside for an evening meal, but something felt wrong. Carwyn looked behind at what was left of his army. "Check the houses." The soldiers dismounted to obey.

Percival aided Carwyn down from his horse, and Carwyn suppressed the urge to groan.

"Sire! Here!" Alec called. Percival held onto Carwyn's arm as he moved around the corner of the first house. Alec stood in an open doorway with a stunned expression. He pointed.

Carwyn stepped inside the house with Percival at his side and felt immediately faint. A woman lay on the floor, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand, the bowl she'd been stirring abandoned on the counter above her. A man slumped in a chair, a parchment discarded in front of him. Two children lay with their heads on a table. The family's faces were twisted in grotesque expressions of pain or horror, dead eyes glazed over with film.

Percival drew Carwyn back out the door, and the prince leaned against the stone of the house, breathing in and out quickly.

"Come. You need to sit down," Percival encouraged.

"No," Carwyn gulped. "I'll be fine."

"Sire..."

"I'm fine!"

Percival bowed his head in submission.

"They're all dead," Phipp's voice said as he approached the prince. He was followed by the other soldiers, each proclaiming the same thing.

Carwyn closed his eyes for a moment. Who had killed all these people? And where was Merlin?

"I found something," Moeris cried out.

"Show me," Carwyn demanded. He pushed Percival away, following as fast as he could after his warrior. He saw what Moeris led him to before they reached it. A community house in ruins, stones misshapen and fallen. And scorched, he observed.

Moeris beckoned him to a particular spot. Carwyn rushed over, holding the side of his chest. "Grimald," he whispered. He knelt to the ground, grasping the physician's head and turning it to face him. He jerked his hands away. The physician had the same twisted appearance as the family.

Carwyn stared out over the stone. He glanced over his shoulder to see his soldiers had followed him. "Did anyone find Merlin?" They shook their heads.

Carwyn grasped a stone and threw it away with a wince. "He's got to be here. Search!" He grasped another, hissing at the pain in his side.

"Stop!"

Carwyn scowled at Nyra who had moved to his side. "We look until we find him!"

Nyra knelt down to his level. " _You_ rest. _We_ look for Merlin."

The soldiers had moved in, shifting the stone.

"She's right," Percival said from Carwyn's other side.

Carwyn set his jaw. "Fine." Percival directed him to a home across the way. Nyra entered and returned with a chair for him to sit on. She and Percival joined the others digging into the rubble.

Carwyn wiped a hand over his face. _Where are you, Merlin?_

* * *

Merlin lay on his back, eyes closed, breathing deeply, calming himself. He had endeavored one more time to defeat the restraints binding him. He hadn't been able to sense anything beyond the walls of his prison, so he drew on the magic of himself, feeling it filter through every pore in his body, then he cried out the strongest spell he knew to break the cuffs. The stabbing pain in his wrists and ankles caused him to scream at the top of his lungs. He'd done nothing but make the burns turn a bright red. He rested for a time, then bit his cheeks and tried to wiggle and twist his hands free, but the cuffs held fast. He wouldn't get free, he concluded. The only thing left was to prepare to face whatever was to come.

He'd spent quite a long time laying still, relaxing his body and mind. Voices from the past, Rankin had said. And that he would face himself. _I will not be afraid of myself_ , he vowed, but doubt already assailed him.

The door creaked open again. Merlin opened his eyes and pulled himself to a sitting position, hoping he looked more determined than he felt.

Rankin entered, his blond hair pulled back in a tie, his eyes sparkling as if something exciting had happened. He walked up to Merlin and picked up the empty tray. "I see you enjoyed your meal. I'm glad you trusted me. You'll need your strength. This place can drain you of so much."

Merlin watched Rankin walk back to the door to set the tray outside. "You sound as if you have faced this place yourself."

Rankin closed the door. "I have. Many times. Though willingly unlike you. The voices, they've told me many things about you. I know who you are, and soon you will know, too."

Merlin tried to slow the increase in his heart rate. This felt too much like when he'd been captured by Morgana so long ago, only then she'd threatened to take who he was away. He wondered which he would think was worse by the end of this: to lose oneself or to face oneself.

"This room," Rankin said, pacing back and forth in front of Merlin, "is carved out of dark crystals, each shaped, designed, and enchanted. Each wall you see is a gateway beyond the veil."

Merlin stared at each wall in turn. "A gateway...for the dead?"

Rankin nodded. "They are eager for you, Emrys. They desire an audience with _you_. I have been quite curious who will deal with you first."

Merlin sat as tall as he could. "I'm ready then."

Rankin raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I have only ever heard their voices, and those were difficult enough. Those who listen are their focal point; they must exploit the magic of others for communication to take place. I wonder what they will achieve with your power at their disposal."

Merlin firmed his jaw, unwilling to let Rankin see the fear his words caused. They would use _his_ magic?

"One more thing," Rankin said. "I want to show you something." He withdrew a sword from his belt and brandished it in front of Merlin. It was long, noble, and missing its tip. Merlin's eyes grew wide. He had wondered for years what had happened to this very sword.

"Yes," Rankin said, "it's the sword of Mordred, revered by those of us who follow the greatest high priestess ever to live. This is the sword that killed your king, and if there comes a time you cannot bear the truth any longer, you have but to ask and I will release you from this earth once and for all." Rankin sheathed the sword. He moved to the door. " Hlyste pa heafodwope paes feorhcynnes ond aetyne." The door swung open.

"You aren't staying to watch?" Merlin mocked.

"They don't like observers," Rankin said quietly. He closed his eyes. "Gast awaecne! Emrys abideep dom!" He slipped through the door with one last menacing glimpse at Merlin and shut the warlock in.

Merlin tightened his hands into fists, fighting against the fear coursing through his mind. The crystal walls began to swirl with otherworldly mist. Merlin's chest throbbed as he breathed too quickly. "Calm down," he commanded himself.

The wall to the right of the door began to glow intensely. A tendril of mist shot out of it and wrapped around Merlin's neck and chest. He gasped as he felt power draining out of him, trembling violently. The tendril became a vein, Merlin's magic a gleaming blue seeping from his body through the tube of mist to the wall. The tendril released him and withdrew when the wall flamed blue. Merlin braced his palms on the ground, shaken, staring at the wall.

A shadowy figure appeared, indistinct, but becoming clearer every moment. A boot broke through, coming down hard on the chamber floor. An imposing man followed, his vicious, angry eyes boring into the chained warlock.

Merlin locked eyes with a shade he'd seen before and would have chosen never to see again. "I do not fear you!" he shouted, infusing as much confidence into his voice as he could as he faced down Uther Pendragon.


	17. Kings

Carwyn gazed blankly into crackling flames. Night had come and he and his army had set up camp on the edge of Combe. They hadn't found Merlin in the rubble. Carwyn had sent out his warriors to search in different directions outside of the village; each returned with nothing to report. Nyra continued to press him to return to Camelot, but he had angrily declared they would not leave the area until Merlin was found. Besides, they needed to bury his subjects.

Carwyn heard footsteps crunching behind him and then up to his side. He didn't look up. "What do you need?"

"I told Percival and Reynfrey I'd check your wound," came Nyra's resolute voice.

"It feels fine."

"Yes, that's why you've been grimacing every time you move your right arm."

Carwyn ground his teeth. "I thought you weren't a healer."

"I've watched my father tend enough wounds to know a thing or two." Nyra knelt down next to him and whispered. "I think it would be less embarrassing for you to submit than for me to have to try to use magic to remove your shirt and bandage."

Carwyn finally looked at her. "You wouldn't dare."

Nyra only stared him down.

 _She would,_ he realized. He shrugged out of his shirt, and lay it beside him, closing his eyes against the pain. Nyra unrolled the bandage. Carwyn clenched his teeth when she pressed her fingers around his wound. "It's not good," she spoke quietly.

Carwyn looked down at the wound and immediately wished he hadn't. A greenish ooze came from it, and it was inflamed around the edges. He swallowed bile threatening to rise in his throat.

"Reynfrey and I made a poultice from herbs we found in the houses. It will help. And I have a fresh bandage." Nyra dug into a bag she'd set on the ground. As she went to work placing and securing the poultice, Carwyn observed his army. They sat on the other side of the fire, quietly chatting to each other and throwing glances his way every so often.

 _I failed them._ _They trusted me and I led them straight into a trap...And Merlin. I told him to come here. Whatever happened to him, he wouldn't have been here if I hadn't told him to go._

"There," Nyra said as she tied off the bandage. "Now, I also have a sleeping draught."

Carywn jerked his head to her. "I don't need it."

"It will help you rest."

"I'll take the first watch like always."

Nyra's brow creased and her eyes flashed. "Stop this."

Carwyn glared at her. "Stop what? Being the prince? I will do my duty."

"Stop pretending you don't have to take care of yourself to take care of us."

"What does that mean?" Carwyn snapped.

"It means you won't be any good to us if you become so weak we have to drag you along with us. I'm not asking you to drink it for you. I'm asking you so you'll still be strong enough to lead us."

Carwyn turned his head away from Nyra's accusing eyes.

"I already told Percival the first watch is mine anyway."

Carywn growled in his throat, but held out his hand. "Give me the draught." Nyra placed it in his hand and he held it to his lips, swallowing it all.

"Good. Now lie down and heal, my lord."

Carwyn lay back on his pallet and gazed on the twinkling stars in a clear sky. How many times had Merlin taken him outside to enjoy the glories of the night? He knew every constellation and its story because Merlin had regaled him with them all over and over again.

Carwyn blinked his eyes, suddenly very tired. _I'll find you Merlin. I won't stop until...until..._ His mind closed down in a deep slumber.

* * *

Uther's pale shade circled the octagonal room, ignoring Merlin's declaration that he wasn't afraid. Merlin's gaze followed him, continuing to meet his fierce eyes. The last time he'd faced this shade it had tried to kill Arthur _and_ him. Uther had been obsessive over his kingdom and outraged when he discovered Merlin had magic.

Uther paced around Merlin a couple more times, and Merlin found himself growing more annoyed than afraid. He hadn't assumed he'd speak first. "If you have something to say to me, say it."

The shade stopped. "You never did respect authority."

Merlin didn't respond to the accusation. It was far more mundane than he'd expected and actually a little true where Uther was concerned.

"You are a liar and deceiver."

Merlin scowled at the shade. "If not for your laws, I wouldn't have had to lie. I didn't want to be executed at _your_ hands."

Uther laughed bitterly. "You lied for more than that reason. You pretended to be loyal to my son, but you were his downfall. You destroyed his kingdom."

Merlin swallowed hard. "His kingdom lives on."

"But he does not!" Uther shouted. "It is not _his_ kingdom because he is dead! And you are to blame!"

Merlin ground his jaw, more than a little shaken by the charge because he had told himself similar things in his darkest moments.

"You are a king killer twice over."

Merlin felt affronted by that. "I tried to save you."

Uther shook his head. "Another deceit. You hid yourself in a disguise, unable to face the truth. You always wanted me dead."

"I didn't!" Merlin insisted. "Do you know how many times I saved your life?"

"For nothing but your own gain. To bring my son closer to you so you could destroy him."

"I would never destroy Arthur," Merlin protested.

The shade suddenly stepped forward and knelt on one knee in front of him, staring him in the eye. "But you did. If not for you, he'd be alive this day."

Merlin breathed quickly in and out.

"You brought down the kings who stood in the way of your ambition. You led my beloved son to death."

Merlin's anger burned as a desire to tell this shade all the things he'd wanted to but never allowed himself to flared to life. "Your love for Arthur was never pure. You used him to fulfill your own selfish wants. He could never please you enough."

Merlin's head snapped to the side as a slap reverberated through the room. He shook his head, startled by the blow. The shade hadn't moved, but Uther's eyes burned. Merlin tasted blood on his lip.

Uther spoke again, his voice low and dangerous. "What do you know about a father's love for his son?"

Merlin's eyes grew dark. "More than you ever did."

Uther laughed derisively and stood, circling him once more. "You refer to that royal bastard prince."

"He's Arthur's legitimate heir!" Merlin shouted. "I didn't sire him!" Such implications had angered him for years.

"He's the son of a serving girl!" Uther shouted back. "His blood sullies the name of Pendragon. But this is what you wanted all along. Arthur dead, a conniving wench on the throne, and magic allowed to plot the downfall of Camelot."

Merlin's anger smoldered. _This is useless._ Bandying words with an angry shade of Uther was like punching a stone wall.

Uther waited, then tilted his head. "Nothing else to say for yourself, warlock?"

Merlin spoke lowly. "I only ever sought to protect Arthur. And so I protected you, too, a man who killed my kind—men, women, and _children_. You didn't deserve it, but I still protected you. Believe what you want, but I only ever wanted Arthur to live and reign."

The shade circled again and stopped behind him. It leaned down to his ear. "If this is so, then why did you never tell my son about the prophecy? Why did you let the man who would kill him anywhere near him? Perhaps because in your heart of hearts, you knew you wanted Arthur dead."

Merlin closed his eyes, Uther's words striking to the very heart of his guilt. His own words from the past clouded his memory: _I defeated the Saxons. The dragon. And yet...And yet I knew it was Mordred that I must stop._

"I couldn't tell Arthur," Merlin whispered. "I would have had to explain...everything."

"You were too selfish. Your life meant more to you than my son's. Your loyalty always had limits."

Merlin's eyes misted. What would have happened if he had told Arthur about his magic sooner? This question had plagued him over the years. If he'd revealed the truth earlier, he could have warned Arthur about so many things. He'd convinced himself he hadn't done so only so he could continue to fulfill his destiny to protect his friend, but what if there was a kernel of truth in what the shade said? Had he indeed cared more about himself than Arthur? In the end, had he betrayed his destiny and been loyal to himself alone?

"You claim my son as a friend, but you deceived him every day you knew him. Your inability to see the effects of your lies killed him."

Merlin felt biting cold on the right side of his temple. He jerked his head away and craned his neck to look at the shade. Uther grinned maliciously, his eyes boring into the warlock. The cold returned and Merlin began to shake.

"This is the result of your lies."

An image flashed through Merlin's mind, Mordred plunging his sword into Arthur's side, Arthur collapsing, betrayal etching his features. A tear slipped down his cheek. He'd not been there when this happened and he saw it as if he stood on the battlefield himself. He made to run to his friend, but the image and the cold ceased.

"That is what you led my son to. It was _your_ choices that killed him." Uther stood up and moved back in front of him. Merlin refused to look at him. "If I could, I'd kill you. It's nothing less than you deserve, king destroyer."

Merlin stared at the shade's boots through blurry tears. They were flickering. He raised his head. The shade shuddered like a candle flame in the wind.

"Arthur's death and the downfall of our kingdom," came the shade's voice, faint, "will always be on _your_ hands." The shade lost its definition, soaking back into the gateway from whence it came.

Merlin pressed his palms into the floor and bowed his head, breathing deeply. He had expected Uther's shade to claim the destruction of his own kingdom as he had when he'd haunted Camelot. He could have argued against that, but responsibility for Arthur's death? Merlin had always placed that squarely on his own shoulders.

"You should be on the throne," he whispered. Every morning he should be rising to see Arthur kissing Gwen and holding court with his son. He'd stolen what should have been his friend's all along—his kingdom, his wife, his son.

* * *

 _"This is the result of your lies." Mordred thrust his sword into Arthur. Arthur sank to his knees. He tried to rush to the king, but the vision disappeared. "This is what you led my son to. It was your choices that killed him. If I could, I'd kill you. It's nothing less than you deserve, king destroyer."_

Carwyn's eyes popped open. He felt like his heart was beating right out of his chest. He brought a shaking hand to his forehead. He was dripping sweat.

"Are you alright?"

He looked to his right to see Nyra sitting next to him. He glanced at the fire. Everyone else slept.

"I'm...fine."

Nyra cocked her head suspiciously. She moved closer to him on her knees. She produced a cloth and poured water onto it from a skin. She ran it over his face, then rested her hand on his forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"You sound disappointed," Carwyn wheezed out.

"You're sweating like you've run a long distance."

Carwyn didn't answer, but took the cloth from Nyra to rub at the sides of his neck.

"So tell me about it."

"About what?"

"Your dream."

Carwyn blinked. "I don't dream."

Nyra smiled shortly. "We all dream."

"I don't remember most of them."

"You were talking in your sleep."

"I was?"

Nyra nodded.

Carwyn sighed. He'd never done that before...he thought. "It was...nothing."

Nyra stared him down. "Do you want me to repeat all you said?"

Carwyn considered her, then shook his head. He made to push himself up, and Nyra took his hand to help him sit up. He grit his teeth against the residual pain in his side and fiddled with the cloth in his hands. "I think I saw...my grandfather." He'd only seen Uther's likeness in a portrait, but it matched the man in his nightmare. "He was angry with me."

"About what?"

Carwyn twisted the cloth. "Things I never did. He accused me of killing my father."

"You feel guilty," Nyra stated directly.

"For killing my father?" Carwyn said with a laugh. "I wasn't even born then."

"Because knights died and Merlin is missing."

Carwyn's heart sank into his stomach. Curse Nyra for her perception!

"You dream about what you couldn't prevent. These happenings are not your fault."

Carwyn's eyes unwillingly moved to the bodies of the four knights wrapped in cloth at the edge of the camp. They were to be taken back to Camelot for proper recognition before they were burned on pyres.

"We have to get them back to Camelot soon," Nyra said.

Carwyn knew that was true, but Merlin...

"We all want to find Merlin, but we cannot wait much longer."

Carwyn turned to meet the woman's grey eyes. "We must bury my subjects first. It's not right to leave them in their homes like this." He tried to avoid recalling the horrifying faces of the dead in Combe.

Nyra nodded. "Then we must return to Camelot."

"Not we," Carwyn muttered.

"My lord..."

"I won't argue with you," Carwyn spoke harshly. "I can't leave Merlin."

Nyra sighed. "I know he's a father to you. I understand."

Carwyn cleared his throat as moisture threatened his eyes.

"But we don't know where to look. He might even have gone back to Camelot, maybe for help for whatever happened here."

Carywn slowly shook his head. "He wouldn't do that, not without coming back to check on me first."

"You should consider the possibility."

"It _isn't_ a possibility," Carwyn hissed. "I know him far better than _you_."

Nyra didn't reply.

Carwyn looked away from her. If only he had a better way to search for Merlin. He looked up at the stars again. His eyes widened and he stood. "Leoht." He held a light in his palm and began trudging away from the camp and the village. Running footsteps caught up with him.

"Where are you going?" Nyra demanded.

"Go back."

"You're wounded. You shouldn't take off like this to search for him on your own."

"I'm not. Go."

Nyra gripped his arm. "I'm staying by your side."

Carwyn shook his head at her. "You forget and disobey your prince."

"I'm not forgetting anything," Nyra came back. "This is my destiny."

"You said your destiny was to _fight_ by my side, not wander off into the darkness with me."

"I will protect you."

"I don't need it." Nyra opened her mouth to continue protesting, but Carwn continued. "But come anyway."

Carwyn strode determinedly. He stopped quite a ways from the camp and looked into the sky. He took a deep breath and called out in a loud voice. "Aithusa, chreiazomai ti voitheia sas!" She shouldn't be too far away, Carwyn assumed. She usually stayed within four leagues of him.

Nyra watched Carwyn pace back and forth, his light bobbing up and down. "Don't do anything," Carwyn warned her, glancing up at the sky. "And don't be afraid."

"Of what?"

"Just remember you're safe." He glanced at the sky again.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the stars were blotted out by a white bulk. It hovered for a moment, then landed in front of him. Nyra gasped. Carwyn ambled up to Aithusa and ran his right hand over her neck. "Hey, girl. I need your help." Aithusa nestled into Carwyn's chest and he grinned. "I wish I had time to sit with you and talk, but Merlin needs our help."

Aithusa raised her head and whined.

"I don't know where he is. I need you to look for him. Look nearby first, but if you don't find him, look all around Camelot. Do you understand?"

Aithus bobbed her head and Carwyn scratched her under her chin.

"Go, girl."

Aithusa took to the sky, zipping away to the north.

Carwyn turned to see something he never had before—Nyra completely flummoxed. "You're...a dragonlord?"

Carwyn nodded.

"I thought they were all dead."

"They are except for Merlin and me."

"Merlin is one, too?" Nyra blinked in shock. "And the dragons...they're alive?"

"Only Aithusa as far as we know."

"How are you a dragonlord?"

"Merlin's father was one and he became one when his father died. Me—Merlin accidentally made me one when he saved me when I was born. It's how I got magic, too."

Nyra stared in disbelief. "I'd heard rumors of your birth."

"Well, they're true." Carwyn drew close to Nyra, holding his light up to his face so she could see his grave expression clearly. "You can't tell anyone about me or Merlin or Aithusa. We have to protect her." She'd already been endangered when she helped rescue him as a child. After her appearance at the castle, certain hunters had sought her out, but Carwyn and Merlin had seen she was protected.

"I swear I will keep your secret," Nyra vowed, sounding confident again.

Carwyn headed back to the camp, Nyra at his side.

"You should take her into battle."

Carwyn stalled, spinning to face the Druid. He shook his head. Fighting seemed the only thing ever on her mind. "She's not my pet to command. She's a free being. And she's had enough of war."

"She fought in battle?"

"Almost," Carwyn muttered. "The point is, no one is going to use her that way ever again. Understood?"

Nyra lowered her eyes. "Yes, sire."

* * *

Rankin sat motionless, peering intently at the crystal in his hand. Merlin had been mumbling to himself some time after the shade's departure.

A hooded man, his second in command, leaned over his shoulder. "His power," he spoke in awe.

Rankin nodded. He'd been thrilled to see the voices materialize into true shades. That meant he hadn't been deceived. He had only to be patient and he would see _her_ again.

Rankin watched Merlin run his tongue over his injured lip. And that. Rankin had been shocked by that turn of events. Merlin gave the shades enough power they could affect the physical realm.

Rankin's second commented again. "He handled it better than you."

"Of course. He's Emrys," Rankin replied in his defense. Rankin's first time, he'd needed a week to recover. Merlin wouldn't need more than a few hours.

"What if he faces all of them like this? What if he won't do what we want?"

Rankin spoke assuredly. "His trial has only just begun. By the last, he will do whatever is asked of him." He stood, picking up a goblet of wine and a small loaf of bread, and headed for a door.

"Why nourish him?" his second asked. "He would weaken faster without it."

Rankin paused. "Do _you_ wish to stay in there with him?"

His second's feet shifted nervously.

"If you will not face it, then you cannot understand." Rankin opened the door and marched down the hall.


	18. Purge

Merlin looked up when Rankin entered the room. The sorcerer strode up to him and set a goblet and a loaf of bread on the floor. "I know you are Emrys, but it helps to eat after an encounter." Rankin knelt down on one knee next to him and pressed a damp cloth to the wound on his lip. "I'm sorry about this."

Merlin stared at him. "No, you're not."

Rankin slowly smiled. "Alright, I'm not. But I didn't know this would happen. Your magic gives them more strength than I expected."

 _Great_ , Merlin thought as Rankin produced a small vial of ointment and dabbed at his lip. "Why tend to it at all?"

Rankin shrugged. "Call it a kindness from one sorcerer to another."

"Right," Merlin muttered sarcastically under his breath. Once again he was reminded of his capture at Morgana's hands, how she'd healed him when he expected to die. She'd wanted to use him for a purpose. There was a purpose now and Merlin wished he could see it.

Rankin pulled back, but he fixed Merlin with derisive eyes. "I've always thought you were horrible at being Emrys."

Merlin glared at him.

"Once again, all that power at your disposal and your king still died. What dark magic could have done in that moment."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. Rankin may not have stayed in the room, but he must have been watching somehow. "There was only one magic that could have saved him," Merlin replied. _And I didn't get there in time._

"Sidhe. But there were dark ways you could have tried if you had known of them." Rankin stood and walked to the door.

Merlin shouted at him. "I didn't kill Arthur!" Rankin looked back. "I've taken responsibility for that too long. The guilt is Morgana's and Mordred's. I did all I could to save him."

Rankin considered him for a moment, then spoke quietly. "I've told myself similar things. That I couldn't have prevented the death of one I loved, but you'll always know the truth, no matter how many lies you tell yourself."

Merlin fought the war Rankin's words produced in his mind. Logically, he knew Arthur's death couldn't be laid at his feet, but his heart disagreed. There were too many times he could have chosen differently and perhaps changed the outcome.

"Hlyste pa heafodwope paes feorhcynnes ond aetyne." Rankin nodded to the food on the floor. "Eat and rest. This first was easy, Emrys. There are more that have greater grievances with you than a disgruntled, dispossessed king." He left, shutting the door.

Merlin felt tears well in his eyes. He blinked them away, but whispered, "What could be worse than failing Arthur?"

* * *

Carwyn slowly ate a bowl of roasted grain. It was passable, and Moeris had tried his best, but he wished for Merlin's cooking. Carwyn looked up at the sky for the umpteenth time. Aithusa hadn't returned. He had hoped Merlin would be found close by and she would return quickly, but night had passed into morning and the dragon didn't appear.

Carwyn stood when he finished his meal, and cleared his throat to get his soldiers' attention. They paused in their meals to look at him. He read apprehension and weariness in their eyes. Nyra had been right. They needed his leadership now more than ever. He took a breath, then plunged ahead.

"In battle, there is always the chance of losing men. We have lost four brave knights who gave their lives for Camelot. We may grieve their loss, but we will honor them by not letting our grief destroy our resolve. They would go on and so will we."

Carwyn pointed to the village of Combe behind him. "These people were hardworking subjects of Camelot. They deserve our respect in death and our efforts to find who did this and bring them to justice."

Several soldiers nodded in agreement. Carwyn noted expressions changing to ones of determination.

"Percival."

The knight stood. "Yes, sire."

"I order you and your remaining knights to take our honored dead back to Camelot. Give their families my deepest regrets for being unable to return them in person. Honor their memories as they lay upon their biers."

Percival bowed his head to Carwyn. "I will do so." He caught Carwyn's eye as he raised his head however, and Carwyn read a question in them.

"My warriors and I will stay behind. We will see to the burial of these subjects...And we will hope for Merlin's return."

Percival nodded. Carwyn knew the older knight would obey without question, although he could tell he wanted to stay and search for Merlin. But Carwyn needed the knights safely far away from here.

"Let us remember we serve Camelot, and we will not be daunted in our tasks."

There were murmurs of agreement. Carwyn nodded to his soldiers and then beckoned Percival to his side. He spoke conspiratorially with the knight. "Tell my mother as well that we were expected. See if one of the council members is suspect." He held out his arm and shared a wrist grip with Percival.

"Find Merlin," Percival instructed. Carwyn nodded succinctly to him. Percival left to confer with his knights.

Carwyn moved away to the village of Combe, facing the unwelcome task of removing bodies for burial. Footsteps ran up beside him.

"You said exactly what they needed to hear," Nyra spoke approvingly.

Carwyn looked sideways at her. "Thank you for giving me a kick in the ass. You were right. I needed to take care of myself to take care of them."

"Any time you need a kick..." The corners of Nyra's mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I know where to turn." Carwyn smiled.

"Did you believe what you said to them?"

Carwyn frowned. "Of course I did."

"Then don't let grief destroy _you_ either. Let go thinking your knights' deaths and Merlin's disappearance are your fault." The Druid turned away and put her hand on a door to a home. Carwyn jumped to her side, preventing her from opening it by laying his hand over hers. She looked up at him.

"I didn't think you'd kick me again so soon," Carwyn whispered without mirth.

Nyra spoke, echoing his hushed tone. "Everything you've done, you've done because you thought it was the right thing to do. You'll never be able to foresee all circumstances, so don't take the blame for things you didn't think would happen."

Carwyn bowed his head. "You're right. I told Merlin something like that just a couple days ago."

"Why?" Nyra inquired.

"I know he carries the weight of my father's death. He holds himself at fault for not saving him, but he doesn't have to."

Nyra's brow creased. "Emrys thinks King Arthur dying was his fault," she said slowly.

"I told him not to, but I think he still does. The point is, I can't very well tell him to let that go, then take on my own guilt."

Nyra continued to look troubled.

"What is it?" Carwyn asking, perceiving something more than the misplaced guilt of himself and Merlin concerned her.

"I need to think on something."

"You can tell me anything."

"Just let me think," she said. She pushed on the door, causing Carwyn's hand to drop from her own. "I'll help you gather the bodies."

* * *

"Good morning!"

Merlin's eyes fluttered open at the cheery greeting. Rankin stood before him, the empty tray in his hands. Morning...so he'd been trapped in here for almost a day. Merlin stretched as far as he could in the chains and let out a soft breath against his aching body. A spasm ran up his right leg to his right shoulder and he jerked reflexively.

"I'm amazed how well you've handled the drain on your magic. I didn't even wake for two days after I first managed to hear a voice."

Merlin rolled his eyes to the sorcerer. "I'm so glad you're pleased," he mumbled.

"Can you sit up?"

Merlin didn't try. "I'm not a trained dog," he growled.

"I just want to make sure you're strong enough to face the next gateway."

Merlin scowled. "Why all this concern over my welfare?"

"Why not? Is it wrong to care for your safety?"

"You have a motive for doing so."

Rankin smirked. "Yes, but you won't have to worry about that yet."

Merlin locked eyes with the sorcerer. "What did they tell you?"

Rankin's smile fell.

"What dark secrets did they expose?" Merlin smiled with satisfaction to see anger flash on Rankin's face. The voices his enemy had heard must have been as difficult to handle as the accusations of Uther's shade.

"I'm not on trial here," Rankin snapped, hastening back to the door. He paused and grinned at Merlin. "Perhaps you'd like to know how your precious prince is fairing."

Merlin sat up. "What of him?"

"He was wounded in an attack by my men."

Merlin's heart sank. "How badly?"

Rankin ignored the question. "Gast awaecne! Emrys abideep dom!" he called to the walls. Then spoke as quickly as he could, "Hlyste pa heafodwope paes feorhcynnes ond aetyne." The door shut behind him.

Merlin stared after him, wondering if he'd said what he had to get back at him or if Carwyn really was hurt. The walls churned with mist once more and Merlin braced himself. The second wall to the right of the door gleamed brightly. Merlin closed his eyes, trying not to let fear for Carwyn overwhelm him as another shade was soon to confront him. A sudden tightness around his chest and neck told him a tendril had attached itself again. Power sucked out of him as if a leech were trying to drain him dry. He tried to control the trembling this time, but his arms still shook. He breathed in and out rhythmically, determined to make it through.

The squeezing dissipated. Merlin opened his eyes. He had barely any time to register who had entered his prison before he was assaulted by an electric shock scorching through his body.

* * *

Carwyn held his arms outstretched in front of him, directing two floating bodies to the line he and his warriors were preparing for burial. At first, he hadn't wanted to look too closely on the corpses, but then changed his mind. This was the last time they would be seen. He could at least give them the courtesy of being acknowledged by their prince. He etched each and every one in his mind, honoring their memory by vowing not to forget them and to bring justice to the ones who had killed them.

Carwyn reached the middle of the street when a sudden searing pain jolted through him. His arms dropped, the bodies fell, and he went rigid, collapsing stiffly to the ground. He heard someone cry out his name and footfalls stampeding towards him, but he saw only a woman with striking blue eyes grinning at him with joyous rapture.

* * *

Merlin stared up at the pale blue shade leaning over him, gasping for breath and choking back bile. He felt like he'd been held in the roaring flames of a furnace for a split second, but it was enough.

"Now you know what it feels like to be struck down by explosive lightning," the woman spoke sardonically.

Merlin focused on a woman he hadn't seen since his first year in Camelot. "Nimueh," he strained out.

"Hello, Merlin," the shade replied, smiling bitterly. She crouched closer to him to look him over. "You don't look as foolish and headstrong as you used to. I wonder if age has made you repentant."

Merlin pushed himself back into a sitting position and endeavored to control his seizing limbs. He was certain superficial burns laced his body. "I don't regret killing _you_."

"I guess not," Nimueh said. She stepped back from him. "Uther visited you, did he?"

Merlin only stared at her, wondering how much the shades sent to him knew of each other.

"A strange thing that he and I would be brought together once more over hatred of you."

Merlin took a deep breath, wincing at the residual pain from the shade's attack. "Then thank me for your reunion and be gone."

"It's not so much a reunion. Uther and I still mutually despise each other, but sometimes a higher purpose can transcend the deepest prejudices for at least a little while."

Merlin stared hard at the shade. "Can we get this over with? What do you want to yell at me about?"

Nimueh smiled haughtily. "You should have let me kill Arthur. It would have saved you the trouble of doing it yourself."

Merlin clenched his jaw. "I _didn't_ kill Arthur."

"Led him to it, killed him yourself; it's close enough. I see the guilt in your eyes. You know things you did set Arthur on a path to death."

Merlin turned away from the shade.

"I didn't want to hurt you, you know. Not until you interfered with justice." Nimueh's voice lost the arrogant tone, now sincere. Merlin looked back at her. "What do you think it was like to do what your king asked of you and then witness the death of your family and friends when he regretted his _own_ choices?"

"How was it justice," Merlin came back, "to kill a prince who hadn't lifted a finger against you?"

Nimueh exploded in anger. "How was it _not_ justice? A life for a life. Uther took the lives of countless numbers of my kind. He made many childless. To lose his own son was just punishment."

"It only makes you as guilty as he," Merlin argued.

"This is where you fail, Merlin. You chose a murderer over our kind. You never cared about those like you. Your loyalty to the Pendragons spits in the face of those like us."

"I didn't turn on my kind. Arthur was meant to..."

"How many did you let you die? How many did you refuse to aid for fear of your own life? Think about them. Count them. Now!"

Merlin lowered his eyes, trying not to do as the shade suggested, but trying not to only led to doing it. He _had_ stood by and watched people die he could have saved—Thomas Collins, Cerdan, Tom, and countless others Uther had accused of breaking laws regarding magic.

"You stood by and did nothing too many times. We were always second to our murderer."

"I wanted magic free in Camelot," Merlin protested. "I believed some day Arthur would lead to our freedom."

"But he didn't. He accepted the Purge as necessary, trusted Uther's judgment."

Merlin felt again a sharp cold on his temple. He stiffened. Not this again. What did the shade wish him to see?

"This is what happened to those like us."

A series of images flashed through Merlin's mind and he pulled at the chains binding him, wanting nothing more than to get away. He watched people he hadn't known dying in gruesome ways—burned beyond recognition, choking to death as they hung, sliced through the neck on a block, cut down by soldiers' swords. The agony and horror of their final moments stabbed through his heart and he felt tears trailing down his cheeks as he watched each death as if it took place in the present.

"What did the Purge mean to you?" Nimueh accused. "What did you care for those struck down?"

Merlin's head jerked up as if a hand gripped his chin. Nimueh glared at him. "Uther was a murderer. He used magic to bring his son into existence, then rebelled against the price to pay for such an act. How could you deny me the right to enact justice?"

Merlin's head dropped as the invisible force let him go. He took several deep breaths, trying to compose himself after all he'd seen. He murmured a weak question. "And why did you choose Arthur's mother to die?"

Nimueh scoffed. "What woman would not give her own life for her child's? What would you have suggested I do? Take the life of someone else for the king's wishes?"

"You could have refused to do it," Merlin said, peering up through tears.

Nimueh frowned. "Uther wouldn't allow me to. Once again, you show your arrogance. You don't know what it was like. You weren't there. But _your_ crime is clear. You championed a murderer's household against your own."

Merlin answered only in his mind. _I was young, naive, I...didn't think about it._ He hadn't thought much about it. The Purge was in the past, something awful, but it didn't touch him personally. But, no, it did. _My father._ If not for the Purge, he would have been raised by Balinor. His mother would have had a husband. Everything would have been different. Had he really chosen to side with a murderer against his own family?

Nimueh smiled maliciously. "Now you understand. You let a murderer continue his evil. You defended his kingdom and his reign. You are just as guilty as he."

The shade flickered. Nimueh stared Merlin down. The cold came back to his temple. "I leave you with this. Try to tell yourself they didn't deserve justice."

Merlin balled his hands into fists as the deaths of children at the hands of the Purge coursed through his mind. _No, no._ "No!" The shade slipped back through the gateway as the last image faded, a boy hardly more than seven being drowned.

Merlin sank to the floor, sobbing.

* * *

Carwyn felt a hand on his back and finally came to himself. He was curled up in a fetal position, his hands covering his face, weeping uncontrollably.

"Sire? Sire?" Alec called above him.

Carwyn heard other voices, his warriors questioning what was happening and what to do about it.

"He's waking." That was Nyra.

Carwyn rolled onto his back, wiping his face with trembling hands.

"Sire?" Reynfrey's face appeared. "I need to check your wound. It must be infected."

"No," Carwyn muttered.

"But, my lord..."

"Privacy!" Nyra shouted. "Give the prince some privacy so we may check his injury."

Several voices protested, but Phipp sounded above them all. "You heard Nyra! Do as you're told!"

Carwyn felt himself picked up in Reynfrey's arms. The warrior carried him into a house already cleared of bodies and lay him on a cot. He heard Nyra cast a spell to light a candle. Reynfrey pulled him to a sitting position and Nyra supported his back as the kind warrior helped him out of his shirt and bandages. The wound stung slightly as the poultice was removed, but Reynfrey spoke in surprise.

"It's better. I don't understand."

"Rewrap the wound," Nyra ordered in a hushed voice.

Carwyn blinked in a daze as Reynfrey set the poultice back in place and wrapped the cloth around his chest again. Carwyn lay back on the cot.

"He needs rest," Nyra said. "You join the others. I'll watch over him."

"But something is wrong," Reynfrey insisted. "Maybe an internal injury."

"I don't think so."

"Nyra, we need to get him back to Camelot."

"No," Carwyn spoke hoarsely. "Merlin."

"It's not an internal injury," Nyra spoke with confidence.

"You can't know that."

"I know."

"We can't..."

"Trust me. I _know_."

Reynfrey glanced at Carwyn, then back to Nyra. "I suppose Druids know more about healing."

Nyra nodded. "He'll be alright. Leave him with me. Tell the others he is recovering."

Reynfrey sighed. "Alright." He plodded to the door and out.

Nyra knelt down next to the cot and looked into Carwyn's face. "What did you see?" she asked urgently.

Carwyn stared at her. She reached out and gently touched his cheek. "You are disoriented," she said by way of explanation. "You have been somewhere else, seen something. What did you see?"

Carwyn shook his head, trying to dissipate the fog in his mind. "A woman."

"What did she look like?"

"Blue eyes." Carwyn tried to think. "Skin pale. Almost like a...ghost."

"What did she say?"

Carwyn closed his eyes. "She...she blamed me for...letting sorcerers die. For not bringing justice to Uther..." Carwyn's eyes popped open. "My father. My grandfather used magic to conceive him."

"King Uther used magic?" Nyra asked incredulously.

"She said that anyway."

Nyra placed a hand to her mouth, thinking. "Are you sure she was speaking to _you_?"

"I...think so...maybe..."

Carwyn suddenly gulped and fresh tears brimmed in his eyes. "She showed me the Purge, people dying, children..." His chest rose and fell rapidly and he gasped for air.

Nyra put her hand on his chest. "Breathe slowly, my lord. Slowly."

Carwyn did as she said, and let out a long sigh. He turned his head to her. "I...I'm going mad." His eyes grew wide with fear.

Nyra shook her head. "I don't think it's madness."

"What else could it be?"

"I think you are seeing through Emrys' eyes."

Carwyn frowned. "Seeing...through _Merlin's_ eyes?"

Nyra nodded. "I suspected it after you told me Emrys held himself responsible for King Arthur's death. You said in your dream your grandfather accused you of killing your father. Emrys served in King Uther's court. _He_ could be accused of letting sorcerers die when they were executed by the king, for not taking an opportunity to bring justice to the king, but not you."

Carwyn stared at the Druid in disbelief. "How would it even be possible for me to see such a thing? My grandfather is dead."

"Was he pale like the woman?"

"Yes, but..."

"Spirits. The dead walking again."

Carwyn shook his head. "No. It can't be that."

"What else then? You don't believe the dead can break the veil?"

"There are stories. Merlin told me some of his experiences. I guess, yes, they _could_." Nyra kept silent for a moment and Carwyn spoke in a panic. "Does this mean Merlin is dead?"

"If he were dead," Nyra assured, "you wouldn't see through his eyes. I think he is interacting with the dead."

"How?"

"Dark magic of the worst kind."

Carwyn shakily pulled himself up on the cot. "Dark magic. It's _him_."

"Who?" Nyra asked.

"A sorcerer. He tried to kill me when I was a child. He sent a letter telling Merlin he'd return some day ready to face him." _By the gods, Merlin, what is happening to you?_ Carwyn swiveled his legs on the cot to stand up. "We _have_ to find him _now_."

Nyra put a hand on his shoulder. "We don't know where to go and your dragon might return."

"If he's in this sorcerer's hands, we can't wait!" Carwyn stood up, but grasped at his head and would have fallen if Nyra hadn't jumped up so he could lean on her.

"Sit down," Nyra ordered.

"I don't follow your orders," Carwyn practically shouted. Nyra swiped a foot to the back of his knees and Carwyn plummeted back down onto the cot. "How dare you..."

"We don't have time for this!" Nyra yelled.

Carwyn snapped his mouth shut, struck by her sudden vehemence.

Nyra paced back and forth as she spoke. "I have known of a pair of Druids who were able to see through each other's eyes. They were twins in the womb and both were gifted powerful magic." She paused in her pacing, fixing Carwyn with her gaze. "Emrys saved you at birth by using his magic. What if he did more than give you magic and make you a dragonlord? What if his magic in you bonds you to him?"

"Bonds me?" Carwyn questioned. "But, I haven't ever seen anything through Merlin's eyes."

"Emrys has never been in such distress before...in your lifetime anyway. Emrys' magic is stronger than any in existence. It might be that his need has awakened the bond that can save him."

Carwyn put a hand to his chin, considering Nyra's thoughts. His nightmare made sense in light of them. And this last vision..."I did hear his name," Carwyn suddenly recalled. "The woman said 'Hello, Merlin.'"

Nyra nodded in confirmation.

"And yesterday, I knew we had to find Merlin because I thought I dreamed of him stung by a scorpion." Carwyn's voice faded. _I can see what you see. Did you know this?_

Nyra pulled a chair over to the cot and sat down staring intently into Carwyn's eyes. "Where is Emrys? What have you seen?"

Carwyn tried to think. "Nothing. Darkness. My grandfather. This woman. That's all."

"The next time you see something, you need to try and look around."

"I can control what Merlin looks at?"

"No, but you can take in details he might not in the moment."

"We can know where he's been taken."

Nyra nodded.

Carwyn closed his eyes. The accusations and images he'd suffered had been horrifying. That Merlin was facing such things—they would be tormenting his compassionate soul. If he had felt Merlin's grief, he didn't know how the warlock could withstand such depth of pain.

 _I'm here, Merlin. Please speak to me. Show me where you are and I'll come get you. I won't let him destroy you._


	19. Murder

Merlin didn't turn his head when he heard the door to his prison open. His face itched with dried tears. He had no more strength to weep, but the images Nimueh had shown him kept playing through his mind. He didn't know how he could ever have defended Uther when the king was guilty of so much death.

Footsteps sounded around the warlock and Rankin's boots stopped in his field of vision. A tray appeared on the floor—another meal. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Merlin replied dully.

Rankin crouched down and leaned over so Merlin could see his face. "I know it's not easy to realize how dark your soul really is."

Merlin stared blankly.

"I had to face my own self here, but I learned who I was and what I needed to do. The truth here will free you to do what's needed."

"Then tell me what you want of me so I can end this," Merlin said weakly. He guessed he'd probably refuse and Rankin would kill him.

Rankin thought for a moment, then shook his head. "You're not ready yet." He stood. "Besides, the others wouldn't forgive me for not being able to speak with you."

Merlin heard Rankin walk back to the door. "Carwyn..." he spoke softly. "Does he live?"

"Eat. You will need strength." Rankin spoke the spell and the door opened and shut.

Merlin closed his eyes. _Spare him. If you need a life, take mine now, but let Carwyn live._

* * *

Carwyn used his magic to cover the burial mound with a layer of white flowers from a nearby field. He and his warriors surrounded it, hands to their hearts as they honored the dead of Combe.

"May you find peace beyond the veil," Carwyn said aloud. The warriors echoed Carwyn's words. "And may we bring those who took your lives to justice." Vehement agreement came from his warriors.

Carwyn sighed and turned away, trudging back to their camp. He lowered himself carefully to a pallet, his hand on his side. His wound had started to heal, but his mind struggled. His fears for Merlin weighed heavily, along with the deaths from the Great Purge and the knowledge his own father was born of magical interference. His grandfather had used magic, then punished it for existing. These things had happened long before he was born, yet he still felt personally betrayed by them.

"Sire?" Carwyn looked up to find Droyn with the other warriors standing behind him. "We wish to look for Merlin."

Carwyn locked eyes with Nyra standing with the warriors. She stepped to his side. "The prince must still rest."

"But we can search," Droyn insisted.

"Go ahead," Carwyn said, not even protesting that he wasn't coming along. "But return by mid-day."

"Yes, sire." Droyn moved away with the warriors, conversing with them how best to proceed. Nyra said something to Droyn, who nodded. She left the group and strode back to Carwyn, sitting by his side.

"Not going?" Carwyn asked.

"Someone has to protect you."

Carwyn let a small smile find his lips. "And of course, it must be you. Destiny and all."

"Yes, it must be me."

Carwyn watched his warriors mount up.

"Why are you letting them look?"

"Why not?"

"I do not think it likely they will find Emrys."

"I don't either, but it makes them feel useful."

Nyra turned her head to Carwyn. "You are quite wise."

Carwyn lowered his eyes. "Only because of Merlin. I owe him everything." He choked back a lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Nyra said quietly, laying a comforting hand on his knee.

"The things he's seeing...I don't know how he can endure. They're telling him he's done so much wrong...They're lying to him."

" _Are_ they lies?" Nyra asked gently, removing her hand from his knee.

Carwyn turned to her incredulously. "Merlin isn't wicked."

"I didn't say he was," Nyra defended. "But we all do things we aren't proud of."

"Not Merlin," Carwyn spoke angrily.

"No one shares all their deepest failures," Nyra warned.

Carwyn stood abruptly. "I know Merlin's failures and they don't warrant what's happening to him. He doesn't deserve it."

Nyra stood. "I never implied he deserved anything. I just warn you that sometimes we don't know people as well as we think we do."

"Well, I know Merlin," Carwyn marched away from her. He heard her following and spun on her. " _Don't_ follow me!"

Carwyn stomped away from the camp and the village, only halting when he reached the beginnings of a valley. He found a log and slumped down onto it. He thought about the man that was father to him. He certainly wasn't guilty of killing his father. And so this woman wanted to kill Uther. Maybe he did deserve it, but Merlin wasn't a murderer. He couldn't be.

Carwyn was drawn out of his reverie by a long whistle. He jumped up, craning his neck to the sky. "Aithusa!"

The dragon landed in front of him and lay down on the ground, lifting a wing. Carwyn sauntered over to her and sat, leaning into her side. She dropped her wing so it covered his lower half. She always liked this position most.

"Did you find Merlin?"

Aithusa turned her neck to look at Carwyn, her eyes sad. Her head swayed back and forth. Carwyn had suspected her answer, but he was confused. Dragons could sense dragonlords wherever they were. If she couldn't find him, he either wasn't in Camelot anymore or was being held somewhere with magic so strong a dragon couldn't sense him. Carwyn put his money on the latter.

"It's alright. We have another way to find him." Maybe. He hoped he'd soon see through Merlin's eyes again. He laid a tender hand on Aithusa's side. "I have a question, girl."

Aithusa stared at him curiously.

"Do you...still love Morgana?"

Aithusa's wings rose and fell in agitation.

"You know Merlin saved you, right?"

Aithusa moved her head up and down slowly.

"He had to fight Morgana. She wanted to kill my father."

Aithusa's wing tightened into him and Carwyn felt her affection.

"It's just...Merlin had to do so many things and some of them might look..wrong to some people."

As Aithusa let out a series of twittering noises, Carwyn drew farther under her wing. He always felt safe like this. Maybe Nyra was right. His guardian _had_ confessed he had his demons. Still, Carwyn couldn't believe anything but that Merlin had done what he thought was right. Even so, how easy would it be to convince Merlin that choices he'd made meant he was as evil as Uther or Morgana? _With a heart like Merlin's, too easy_ , Carwyn feared.

* * *

Merlin managed a few bites of food and several sips of wine. He hadn't been untruthful when he told Rankin he wasn't hungry. He'd been so emotionally shaken, the thought of food repulsed him. But if Rankin meant to send more shades, he wanted to be ready to face them no matter what they threw at him.

He hadn't meant to eat at all, but a memory of Arthur came to him. It was prosaic really—Arthur practicing fighting—but it made Merlin recall that Rankin had said enemies of Arthur had wanted this chamber to punish _him_. He had looked up at the dark ceiling and thanked fate that he had been dealt this punishment and not Arthur, and then determined to be as strong as Arthur would have.

Merlin had lost track of time. Nimueh had appeared when Rankin said it was morning, but the perpetual darkness of the chamber felt only like a neverending night. Rankin had been gone for a while, perhaps watching him and waiting for him to nourish himself more. He didn't exactly want to see the sorcerer again, knowing Rankin's appearance meant the awakening of another gateway revealing someone else who viewed him as the worst of criminals. But he didn't like being so alone and even Rankin was a reminder the land of the living existed.

The door creaked. Merlin pulled himself up, gritting his teeth against the sting in his wrists and ankles. They'd begun to chafe since he'd been restrained so long. He remembered Arthur and gathered all the courage he could to face the sorcerer.

Rankin stepped inside and this time left the door ajar. He stared at Merlin for a moment. "You won't eat any more?"

Merlin shook his head and raised his chin in defiance. "I don't have the stomach for it," he answered honestly.

"I understand. I've thought maybe I should give you more time. Nimueh seemed to take so much from you."

"I don't need time," Merlin replied.

Rankin raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at Merlin's fortitude. Then his eyes narrowed, and Merlin read he didn't like the way things were going. Rankin walked up to Merlin's side, retrieved the tray, and stepped back to the door. "Very well, then. Gast awaecne! Emrys abideep dom!" The sorcerer smiled. "Good luck." He backed out the door and it locked shut.

Merlin turned his attention to the third wall to the right of the door, intuiting now that each gateway opened in sequence. The mist swirled and Merlin anticipated the tendril that burst out and curled around his body once more. He held his peace, resolved to meet the eyes of the shade that stepped through no matter who it was. This time he didn't shake. Perhaps his willingness to face what was to come made it easier for his magic to seep away from him. The wall grew blue. A figure clothed in black stepped through and Merlin locked eyes with him.

"You," Merlin said with disgust. He knew he had killed this shade, but what else had he done? What could it accuse him of except saving Camelot by denying it to Morgana?

Agravaine's eyes burned fire and he looked as haughty in death as he had in life. "Emrys. Merlin. A greater deceiver than I."

"What do you have to say?" Merlin challenged. "Tell me and begone."

The shade stepped forward, menacingly shaking its fist at him. "Uther Pendragon killed my sister and my brother. I stood by for years and watched him reign without a shred of guilt. His Purge took the lives of many friends and destroyed what Camelot was." The shade took a deep breath.

"It seems your complaint is against Uther, not me," Merlin stated.

"You," Agravaine shouted, pointing at him, "denied the true Pendragon her throne, the one who had been as mistreated as I and deserved to sit on it, and I to reign at her side."

"Morgana was not the rightful heir."

"Morgana was the only one born without the guilt of bloodshed! Arthur had no right. His birth was a trick!"

Merlin shook his head and actually laughed. "You're making up fantasies."

"I don't care what you think," Agravaine growled. "It doesn't matter because I know who you have been. You took my life. My life!"

"You meant to kill me and Arthur!"

"And now," Agravaine smiled viciously, "you're here at my mercy!"

A tremendous blow bashed into Merlin's face. He fell backwards to the floor, shocked by it. Just as Uther, the shade hadn't moved, but its power affected him nonetheless. More blows came, raining down as the shade threw invisible punches and kicks. Merlin tried to curl up as much as he could, but the shade could do whatever it wanted and he had no power to hide from it.

Merlin cried out at a ferocious strike on his back that shot pain down his spine. He heard the door to the chamber slam open and Rankin shouting, "Stop! Stop! He's no good to us ruined!" Rankin cried out, too, and Merlin strained to look. The sorcerer supported himself on the ground on all fours and was bleeding from his nose.

Merlin took another blow to the jaw and heard a sickening crack. He lay still.

Rankin screamed at the top of his lungs. "Gaste edhwierft aet paet heolstor!"

Agravaine shrieked as he unwillingly melted back into the wall.

* * *

Carwyn dozed underneath Aithusa's wing, the thrumming heartbeat of the dragon having lulled him into pleasant slumber. The escape had been just what he needed, until a ghostly man materialized, staring at him with angry eyes. He came awake immediately. The man was ranting about Uther killing his sister and brother and then accusing him of murder. Well, Merlin anyway. Carwyn tried to identify Merlin's location but was thrust back into Aithusa's side when his head exploded in pain.

Carwyn raised a hand to his head. It felt like he'd been punched. Pain roared in his stomach and he cried out, covering his abdomen. Aithusa's wing rose and she stood and turned, peering at him fearfully. Carwyn opened his mouth to tell her to find Nyra, but sharp stings erupted in several different places and he writhed on the ground. Aithusa whined loudly.

"Carwyn!" a voice shouted. Carwyn arched his back and screamed. He heard a different voice shouting, and then saw a man with blood rushing from his nose. His head snapped back and pain jolted through his skull. He collapsed.

"Carwyn!"

Carwyn felt his body turned over and Nyra looked down at him, eyes full of fear. The room in his mind had disappeared. He groaned and took in several breaths. He pushed up on his elbows and shook his head to clear it. The pain was retreating. He sat up, raised his shirt, and was amazed to see not a scratch on him. He dropped his shirt, a horrifying realization coming to him. "I'm not just seeing what Merlin sees," he whispered. "I'm feeling what he feels, too." He had assumed to this point the previous pain came from whatever power was expended to see through Merlin's eyes.

Rage built in Carwyn's chest. "They're hurting him, not just taunting him."

"What did you see?" Nyra asked earnestly.

"I tried to look around, but the pain took over. It was dark. I saw another shade and...a man. He shouted something." Carwyn put a hand to his chin, trying to think. "He...said something like he's no use to us ruined."

"The sorcerer?"

"It could be," Carwyn said, but why would he stop the assault then? Carwyn gripped Nyra's arm. "What if...he kills Merlin?"

"We won't let that happen," Nyra said furiously. "Can you stand?"

Carwyn pushed himself up.

"Your dragon," Nyra said, looking at Aithusa, "didn't find Merlin. You are our only hope of finding him."

"How do you know Aithusa didn't find Merlin?"

"You would have told me."

Carwyn nodded slowly. Yes, but... "Have you been watching me?"

Nyra stared at him without a word.

 _Of course._

Nyra grasped Carwyn's arm, dragging him back towards the camp. Carwyn pushed her off. "What are you doing?"

"You need help seeing clearly. I know who can help us." She continued trudging back to the camp.

Carwyn caught up to her side. "Who?"

"My brother."

"The Druids are on other side of Camelot."

"My brother is his own leader of a band of my people. He is not too far away at the moment. Perhaps half a day's ride. He can help us."

"We need to find the others."

Nyra nodded. "They should come, but only we should approach the tribe." Nyra looked wearily at Carwyn. "They don't like outsiders."

"Are you sure your brother _will_ help us?" Carwyn asked warily.

Nyra's eyes grew fierce. "My people would do anything for Emrys."

* * *

"Emrys! Emrys!"

Merlin heard his name being called, but hurt too much to move his head. A face appeared in his vision, Rankin with blood smeared under his nose and in his beard. "By the gods!" the sorcerer exclaimed. Merlin felt hands press into his chest. "Gestepe hole! Purhaele."

Merlin felt the pain lessen, though his muscles throbbed ferociously.

"Emrys?"

Merlin moaned softly. "Don't...talk." His head still ached.

Rankin let out a breath and sat down next to the warlock. "I know they hate you, but I didn't know Agravaine would do that. He didn't indicate he would."

Merlin closed his eyes, breathing rhythmically. "He was always...good at...deceiving people."

"As were you," Rankin added.

"I only did...what I had to."

Rankin laughed shortly. "What you had to. Always Arthur Pendragon in your mind. No thought for those his kingdom destroyed."

Merlin clenched his fists. "Arthur was a good king."

"Arthur didn't deserve the throne. Agravaine was right about that at least."

Merlin didn't answer, finding talking to Rankin as useless as talking to the shades.

"It doesn't matter what Arthur was anyway," Rankin said. "It was you who moved the heart of Camelot. Arthur may have been king, but you were the real shaper of destiny behind it all."

Merlin opened his eyes to look up at the sorcerer. "I didn't have that much power."

"You're too humble. You did. All these shades," he gestured to the walls, "you determined their destinies. You had so much in your hands and you were less than careful with your responsibilities. The life that commanded your attention was Arthur's."

Merlin bit his lip. He had to admit he had become single focused quite often, but he kept being told his destiny was to protect Arthur. What else could he do?

"Why do you want me alive? Why not just kill me?" Merlin asked quietly.

Rankin rose from the floor and gazed down at the warlock. "Rest now."

Merlin watched Rankin walk back to the door, speak the spell, and exit.

* * *

Rankin's second waited outside the door. "Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine," Rankin grumbled, striding down the hall. "He'll need more time than I'd like to recover, though."

"I warned you not to trust the dead."

Rankin turned on his second in command. "The plan is still working. A little pain won't destroy it. Might even aid it. Now get back to your duties."

Rankin stomped down the hall and into a room. He grabbed a cloth and poured some water onto it, wiping at his nose. Blasted shade! He should have guessed Agravaine would be the one to take advantage of an opportunity. Luckily, he was pretty well assured none of the rest would be so eager to harm the warlock.

Rankin picked up his crystal from the table. "Aetie Emrys!" Merlin appeared, still lying on the ground, eyes closed. "Do not worry, Emrys. Fate has one last task planned for you and it will be the greatest act of your life."


	20. Disir

Carwyn reluctantly bid farewell to Aithusa who was just as hesitant to leave him. He had to reassure her multiple times he was fine before she agreed to fly to safety once more more while he and Nyra tracked down the warriors searching for Merlin. They weren't far away; Carwyn found them quickly with his sight. They approached the group, huddled together, apparently discussing their findings or lack thereof.

"You must return to camp," Carwyn commanded as he approached.

"But we haven't found Merlin," Pello protested.

"You won't be able to find him."

"You're giving up?" Moeris asked incredulously.

Carwyn glowered at him. "Would I _ever_ give up on Merlin?"

"What then?" Phipp inquired, worry etched on his face.

Carwyn put his hands on his hips. "I have to tell you something." He glanced at Nyra. "Merlin has been captured."

"By who?" Droyn asked.

"A sorcerer who uses dark magic. When I was a child, he tried to kill me and the queen. He said he would return and I believe he has."

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Alec asked in an annoyed tone.

"I would have if I had known," Carwyn said. "I've just realized it myself."

" _How_ do you know?" Droyn queried.

Carwyn drew in a preparatory breath, but before he could speak, Nyra explained.

"Our prince is bonded to Emrys. He can see through his eyes. Emrys is under attack."

Pello whistled lowly. "How do you see through his eyes?"

"And why haven't you taught _us_ this skill?" Phipp added.

"It's not taught," Carwyn said. "I didn't even know I had this bond with Merlin. Nyra thinks the danger he is in has awakened it. It's probably because he used his magic to save me when I was born."

"Ah hah!" Reynfrey called out.

"Alright. You were right," Moeris mumbled.

Carwyn's brow creased.

Alec looked uncomfortable. "We have...discussed your birth before...Most of us didn't think the rumors true."

Carwyn smiled lightly. "They are true. Merlin did save me and gave me magic. And apparently, his magic that saved me is now trying to save him."

"So where is he?" Phipp inquired.

"I don't know," Carwyn admitted. "But Nyra says her brother can help me see better to find out. We need to get back to camp and make for the Druids."

* * *

Merlin lay still, eyes closed. He'd spent the last hour listening to nothing but the beating of his heart. He didn't want to think anymore because every thought had become dark. He didn't want to face the truth that he had been the "shaper of destiny" as Rankin called him. If his hand had orchestrated the trials and sufferings of Camelot, he was guilty of far more than he had ever considered.

The door opened. Merlin heard Rankin's footfalls and a tray being set on the ground. "Emrys?"

"Go," Merlin whispered.

"I just want to know you're alright."

Merlin surprised himself by chuckling. "Alright?" He opened his eyes. "You said you knew what this place was doing to me. Then how do you dare ask if I'm alright?"

"It _will_ be alright. I swear to you, your time here will not be wasted." The sorcerer moved back to the door and out.

Merlin glanced at the tray full of food. He closed his eyes once more. His mind flicked to the sword Rankin had shown him. _Arthur, I don't think I'm as strong as you._ He wondered if fate would compel him to meet his end at the mercy of the same weapon that had taken his beloved king.

* * *

Carwyn ordered Nyra to ride hard. He didn't want to waste a moment getting to the Druids, hoping to reach them before his bond with Merlin awoke again. He _had_ to figure this out or Merlin might be dead by the time they found him.

Carwyn had tried not to contemplate the possibility he would lose his guardian, but the beating Merlin had taken scared him. He kept imagining finding Merlin in a dank cell—bruised, cut, and lifeless. _I can't lose you. I can't._ What would he do without the warlock's wisdom and guidance...and love? Merlin had given up everything to raise him. His sacrifice couldn't end like this.

The sun had well passed mid-day when Nyra slowed, bringing her horse to a standstill at the convergence of two rivers. Carwyn drew up alongside her.

"The warriors must wait here," she said.

Carwyn raised his hand, calling a halt. He turned in his saddle. "You will wait here," he commanded. "The Druids do not like outsiders. I will go with Nyra. We will return by morning or send a messenger. Phipp!"

"Yes, sire?" Phipp said, trotting closer to his prince.

"I leave you in charge here. If something happens and you need us, send Pello."

Phipp bowed his head. "Yes, sire."

Carwyn smiled encouragingly at his warriors. "We _will_ find Merlin."

They nodded back and Carwyn turned to Nyra, motioning for her to lead on.

The Druid led Carwyn from the rivers to the north over rocky terrain. Soon, grand rock formations appeared, gray and imposing. Carwyn didn't think he could have found his way without Nyra. The rocks seemed to form natural mazes like the ones they sometimes created using hedges for festivals in Camelot. After some time, Nyra paused at a particularly large formation. Carwyn craned his neck up, impressed by its size, as he rode up next to her. She fixed him with a stern gaze.

"Let me talk first," she warned.

Carwyn nodded.

She moved forward again and Carwyn followed behind her. The terrain changed, now dotted with trees. They passed a small pond when a sharp whistle sounded. Nyra reined in her horse.

"Aalef!" Nyra shouted. "Show yourself!"

"Little sister," came a mocking voice.

Nyra dismounted and Carwyn followed her lead.

A man popped up from behind a bush. He looked to be at least ten years older than Nyra. His hair was long and dark, flowing free except for thin braids dangling on either side of his ears. His brown eyes were fierce and Carwyn noted the Triskelion tattoo on the right side of his neck. "They said they saw you, but I didn't think it could be you. You abandoned us long ago."

"I wouldn't have abandoned you if you hadn't be such a brat."

Carwyn stared between Nyra and the man he assumed to be her brother, troubled at the lack of welcome.

"Me? You were the brat."

"It depends on who you ask."

The man suddenly smiled and ran forwards, embracing Nyra in his large arms. "It's been too long."

Nyra hugged him around the waist. "Yes," she whispered. She drew back, smiling.

Aalef looked to Carwyn. "Who is this?"

Nyra rested a hand on Aalef's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "The prince of Camelot."

Aalef stared back at her for a moment, then turned and bowed low. "Prince Carwyn. Welcome."

Carwyn slipped off his horse and bowed back. "Thank you."

Aalef raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect a prince with such...obeisance."

 _That's because of Merlin again_ , Carwyn thought. _And my mother._

Aalef turned back to Nyra. "Why do you bring the prince here?"

"Emrys is in trouble."

"Emrys?" Aalef's eyes widened.

"We need your help."

* * *

As they hiked towards Aalef's clan, Nyra chronicled what had happened—the raider attack, the strange deaths in Combe, and how Merlin had gone missing. When she detailed Carwyn's bond with Merlin, Aalef nodded thoughtfully and agreed with her assessment.

"So can you help the prince see?" Nyra asked anxiously.

"Yes," Aalef said, looking to Carwyn, "but I will need to be with you when you next see through his eyes."

"I'll stay near you," Carwyn said.

"That would be best."

They reached a wide open space and people appeared, sitting around campfires, lounging outside tents, or strolling back and forth on errands. Carwyn had never been in the thick of a Druid camp and felt awkwardly out of place. He felt even more an outsider when several Druids ran up to Nyra, exclaiming how glad they were to see her. An older woman with white hair seemed the most delighted, nudging others out of the way to throw her arms around Nyra.

"Our grandmother," Aalef noted beside Carwyn.

"I don't mean to offend,'' Carwyn said, "but Nyra said her mother was your father's second wife. Is this her father's or mother's mother?"

"I am her half-brother," Aalef said. "This is _our_ father's mother."

The older woman smiled at Nyra. "You should come. Lewen is having a baby."

"Another?" Nyra questioned in surprise, then laughed.

"She would want you to help. Come."

Nyra looked back at Carwyn. "I should stay."

Carwyn waved a dismissive hand. "Go. I'll stay with your brother."

Nyra nodded her thanks and walked away with her grandmother who wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Carwyn stared after them, trying to reconcile Nyra as he knew her with Nyra among her people. The moment they stepped foot in the clearing, she had seemed to lose some of her ferocity.

"Do you treat her well?"

Carwyn turned at Aalef's abruptly hostile voice. "Eh...Yes. She's been invaluable."

"Good," Aalef said, narrowing his eyes at Carwyn. "She is worth far more than you know." He beckoned Carwyn to follow him. Carwyn did, wondering at his words and observing the Druids at work and play. Several glanced at him curiously and a bit warily.

Aalef stopped at a tent. "You may make my home your home."

"Thank you."

"And now, since we must wait for the bond to awaken again, why don't you make yourself useful." He pointed to a stool and Carwyn sat down. Aalef picked up a mortar and pestle and passed them to the prince along with several sprigs of rosemary.

Carwyn watched Aalef out of his peripheral vision as he tore off the leaves and began to crush them. Was everyone in Nyra's family as straightforward as she?

* * *

Rankin gazed on the crystal in one hand and sipped from a wine goblet in the other. Emrys had barely moved for hours. He'd nibbled at the food, but nothing more. Rankin smiled slowly. The greatest warlock on earth was breaking. He had to grant that Agravaine's assault may have been fortunate after all. Emrys had been so defiant before the shade's appearance. Now his weakened body seemed to further his weakened mind.

Rankin set the crystal on a table. His eyes began to water and he brushed away the mistiness. How much he wanted to see her again! _Patience. She will come._ And then he would beg her forgiveness for failing her.

A knock sounded on his door. "Come," he called out.

His second stuck his head in. "It's time for the ritual."

Rankin sighed. "You do it."

"They want you."

Rankin grudgingly stood and grabbed his cloak, tying it on and raising the hood. He followed his second out the door and down the hall, then a couple turns into a large room. The devout had already gathered, solemnly awaiting his arrival. As he picked up a bowl of water from a stand and made his way to the rectangular stone altar, he reflected this wasn't really necessary. The spell was, but the trappings around it had grown too elaborate over time. Still, the ritual focused their minds and souls on what mattered: preparing for the Return.

Rankin held the water up in the air, chanted a quick spell, then turned the bowl over. The water floated above the preserved body at rest on the altar, then gradually settled and dissolved through its skin. Rankin's hands quivered as he lowered the empty bowl. Soon. So very soon and the ritual would be needed no longer.

* * *

Carwyn looked up from the herbs he thought he'd been grinding for hours. Aalef had kept handing him more every time he finished, taking what he ground and filling little pouches. He'd explained they'd take them to markets in the towns and trade for other wares they required.

Carwyn had spent his time observing his surroundings and had begun to understand why these people were so close to magic. They maintained a balance here between themselves and the world. He sensed a peace he didn't feel in Camelot, even though they had been without war for so long. Carwyn recalled how Merlin loved being outside where magic flowed strongly. That he had given it up to live in a stone castle and serve the Pendragons... _I need to find him!_

Carwyn rested his head in his hands.

"Do you see something?" Aalef had stepped to his side.

Carwyn looked up. "Oh. No. Just...thinking."

"You worry about Emrys."

"Yes," Carwyn said softly.

Aalef clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We will help you find him."

Carwyn bobbed his head. He hoped so.

"Aalef!"

Carwyn looked over when he heard Nyra's voice. She pranced towards them, beaming, holding a bundle in her arms. She had changed out of her chain mail, now wearing a plain brown dress with a yellow over garment. Her hair had been loosed from its circlet, tied back to keep it out of her way. Carwyn hadn't realized how long her hair really was until now. It cascaded down her back in coppery waves.

"I've brought Lewen's baby. A girl."

Aalef moved over to Nyra and stared down into the swaddling blanket. Carwyn stood, stepping closer to gaze down on the infant's small, round face. Aalef placed a gentle hand on the infant's forehead and whispered a series of words Carwyn didn't understand. He leaned down and kissed the baby's forehead. "Live strong, little one."

Nyra met Carwyn's eyes. "He was blessing her," she explained. "I need to take her back. Do you...want to come?"

Carwyn glanced at Aalef. "I should stay near your brother."

"I will come with you," Aalef said. "I should comfort Olver."

Nyra laughed. "Olver's her father. She's their ninth child."

Carwyn shared in her laughter and wondered what it would be like to have eight siblings.

* * *

By the time they returned the baby to her family, the sun had set. The campfires shined as beacons in the night as they meandered back to Aalef's tent. Carwyn observed the Druids gathering in the center of the encampment around a large bonfire, carrying pots, baskets, and bowls.

"What are they doing?" he asked Nyra.

"A child has been gifted to us," Nyra said. "We will feast tonight." She smiled in satisfaction. Carwyn stared at her. She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You seem so...different here."

Nyra looked down at her feet and brushed a hand over her cheek. "I feel different here."

"I just thought you only cared about battle," Carwyn said with a smile.

Nyra looked up. "It's still in my heart. I will fight for you and die beside you if it is asked of me."

Carwyn was taken aback. "I didn't mean...I don't doubt your resolve."

"I suppose I am changed here," Nyra replied, looking to the Druids preparing to eat. "These are my people and my home." She looked back at Carwyn. "You are quite different at times."

"Me?"

"When I watch you with your mother, or when you and Emrys converse long into the night."

Carwyn's cheeks warmed at the thought that Nyra had so closely observed his more private moments.

Nyra glanced behind her and Carwyn followed her gaze. Aalef was trailing them and nodded to assure he was still there. Nyra picked up her pace back to her brother's tent. She retrieved a basket from inside and handed it to Carwyn, then gathered one herself. "Come," she said.

Nyra led him back to the center of the camp and set the basket among a plethora of bowls, pots, and other baskets. Carwyn set down his own basket, and soon the meal was uncovered and everyone filled their bowls for a joyful feast.

Carwyn sat on the ground next to Nyra and Aalef, listening to the happy chatter. It was like being in the grand hall in Camelot, but better. He tried to figure out what made it so different, besides the less elaborate setting. There was something about the people. Then it hit him. There was no status here, no pretending to be something one wasn't to impress, no court intrigue. It felt...free.

After quite some time eating, three Druids stood, moved to the side of the fire, and produced a flute, lyre, and timbrel. They began to play a slow tune. Carwyn relaxed as the weight of the past few days seemed to melt away. Then the music changed, becoming lively. Several people stood and began to dance, forming lines that weaved in and out of each other.

Carwyn looked over at Nyra who was clapping along. Her eyes glowed in the firelight and her hair had fallen over her shoulders, reflecting the fire like a glowing ember. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Another Druid approached her, a young man about her age. He held out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her to the fire. The dancers joined hands in two circles, turning in opposite directions as they looped the fire. Carwyn's stomach flipped, and he felt uncomfortable watching the young man dance with _his_ warrior. A hand pressed into his back.

"Dance," Aalef encouraged.

Carwyn looked at him. "I...eh..."

"You don't dance at the castle?"

"We do."

"Then dance."

Carwyn stood, rubbing his hands nervously along his trousers. He stepped towards the outer circle. Nyra saw him and unlinked her hand with the young man, taking his instead. He joined in, keeping up and silently thanking his mother for insisting he learn court dances.

* * *

The door swung open again. Merlin wearily pulled himself up. He had slept fitfully, images of shades circling him and accusing him his only dreams. His wrists and ankles burned, his body ached, and he was sure his face bore a bruise. How fortunate he was his magic had made the shades so powerful, he thought ruefully.

Rankin stepped inside. "How do you feel?"

Merlin met his gaze, but refused to answer. He was done with this sorcerer who pretended to care.

Rankin sighed and walked over to pick up the tray that had hardly been touched. "You do need strength. You need to eat more."

"Send the next one," Merlin said, trying to sound brave when all he feared was another shade's appearance and an eruption of pain.

Rankin stared at him for a moment, eyes contemplative. "If you are ready."

"I'm ready," Merlin lied. He wished Rankin would just open all the rest of the gateways and get to the end of whatever dark game was being played out.

"Gast awaecne. Emrys abideep dom." Rankin spoke the spell to open the door and disappeared.

The next gateway was behind Merlin. He craned his neck to see the mist writhing inside the wall. He anticipated the tendril, but couldn't keep looking backwards when it twisted around his body and gripped his neck. He breathed in and out, feeling the weight of age as his magic was exploited. The tendril released. Merlin awaited a voice. He heard a small laugh and a pale shade paced around to face him. Fear gripped his heart.

"Merlin," the shade greeted in a voice as shrewd as it had been in life.

"Morgause," Merlin whispered.

* * *

Carwyn twirled with the Druids, circling the fire and glancing every so often at Nyra who grinned next to him. The rhythm of the dance had taken over, and he felt freer than he had in a long time...until a stark darkness blotted out the bonfire. He tripped and fell, barely catching himself on his hands and knees. He heard Nyra call his name, but she sounded far away. Then she shouted, "Aalef!"

He felt himself pulled backwards and laid on the ground, then two hands on either side of his temples.

"Look," he heard Aalef's muted voice. "What do you see?"

Carwyn's skull tingled and the darkness of the image became clearer. He saw a pale woman, scarred on the right side of her face. Her eyes were deadly. _Merlin_ , she said. _Morgause._ Carwyn gasped.

"I...I can hear him," Carwyn stammered.

"Who?"

"Merlin."

"What do you see?"

"A room." Carwyn strained to look around. "Glowing walls. Several walls." He couldn't see the whole room. The woman spoke again. Carwyn listened intently, hoping to hear something that would reveal Merlin's location.

* * *

Merlin shook his head. Right after he'd spoken the shade's name, he'd heard indistinct whispers. He glanced at the other gateways, afraid Rankin really had let in more than one shade, but Morgause was the only one. _I'm starting to hear things. I'm going mad._

"Afraid to look at me? To see what you did?"

Merlin turned his attention back to the shade, tracing the scars trailing down the right side of her face. "I'll never regret stopping you from taking over Camelot." He braced himself, expecting an explosion of pain.

"The loyal servant. Emrys all along. I should have known." Morgause paced back and forth in front of him. "I should have guessed the magic that did _this_ ," she pointed to her face, "was much stronger than my own."

Merlin felt an intense itching on the right side of his face, and then a slight burning sensation, not too painful, but uncomfortable.

"I lived with it for months."

Merlin's chest constricted and he coughed involuntarily.

"And that. Constant sickness, constant reminders. Until I escaped this world for Morgana's sake. And you defiled my sacrifice."

"What...sacrifice?" Merlin breathed out between a cough.

"It was my blood that opened the veil for the dead."

"The Dorocha," Merlin realized. "You gave yourself."

Morgause nodded. "My last gift to my sister...ruined by you and your precious knight."

 _Lancelot_ , Merlin recalled. How painful it had been to watch him walk through the veil!

"My sister should have taken the throne. She and I, so unwelcome, so hated."

"You made yourselves hated," Merlin accused.

"You think so?" Morgause stopped pacing and knelt down on one knee to Merlin's level. "Do you know my story?"

Merlin stared into her earnest, sorrowful eyes, and shook his head.

"You felt so different, didn't you, growing up with a power that set you apart."

Merlin didn't reply, but of course, he had.

"I was different from the moment I was born, just like you. The night of my birth, a high priestess appeared and foretold my destiny: the downfall of Camelot and Uther Pendragon. So you know what my parents did? They mourned as if I had died and gave me to Gaius, so he could cast me away to the high priestesses' control. That was how much they feared me. How little they loved me."

Merlin's heart clenched. He coughed again and tried to ignore the constant burning on his cheek. "I didn't know any of this."

"You never cared," Morgause said lowly. "Only Arthur Pendragon was worthy of your care."

Morgause stood again, peering down on Merlin like he was a disgusting insect. "You and I are of the same kind. But I was forced to live with the high priestesses, promised every day I would reunite with my family when the time was right. Then Uther carried out the Great Purge, and I never saw them again. Until Morgana, the only family I had left. _You_. You were loved, cared for, doted on, not tossed aside like diseased vermin."

Merlin couldn't help a twinge of sympathy for the shade. If he hadn't had the love of his mother and the devotion of Gaius, he didn't know what would have become of him. Would he have fallen onto a darker path as Morgause had?

"The Disir even gave you a chance to free magic, and you forsook those of us who suffered under the curse of laws that denied us our right to existence."

Merlin drew a trembling breath into his aching chest. _Not this. Please not this._

"Your king could have brought freedom. He asked you if magic should be allowed in Camelot, and you told him there was no place for it."

Merlin winced at the painful memory. "There was more to that decision," he spoke quietly.

"You doomed us that day. You've never truly been one of us."

Merlin blinked back tears. He had hoped no shade would mention this incident, because he had no defense against it. It had been a mistake, pure and simple. Every fiber of his being had wanted to tell Arthur the truth, reveal his magic then and there, to show Arthur all the ways it had done good in his kingdom. Arthur had been so close to accepting magic, accepting _him_ wholly, and Merlin's answer pushed him away. Merlin had decided long ago he should have listened to his heart that night instead of his fear.

"Once again, your devotion to Arthur Pendragon brought destruction on our kind. How proud you must be," Morgause sneered.

A tear escaped Merlin's control.

Morgause tilted her head and spoke with realization. "You _aren't_ proud. You know you failed us."

Merlin bowed his head. "I'm...sorry." Merlin felt his head jerked up.

Morgause shook her head. "You do not deserve forgiveness, but judgment. Morgana should have reigned. _She_ would have done what you refused to do. Magic would have been restored to its rightful place. She was as cast aside as I, Uther's daughter, denied because he couldn't admit his own weakness, his wretched adultery. And you. You destroyed what could have been magic's greatest hour."

Merlin coughed violently, the air in his lungs expanding painfully.

"We had a right to take back what was taken from us. We had the will to do it. What did you do, Emrys, but reject the magic that bore you?" Morgause paced around him. "The knowledge of your guilt will follow you to your grave." Her voice faded and the pain in Merlin's face and chest vanished.

Merlin looked over his shoulder. She was gone, but her words remained, a torment in his mind.

* * *

The darkness retreated, replaced by brilliant stars in an inky sky.

"Sire?" Nyra's voice.

Carwyn felt Aalef remove his hands from his temples. The man gripped his hand to help him sit up. The Druids had gathered around them, concern etched on their faces.

"Can you describe what you saw?" Aalef asked.

Carwyn spoke hoarsely. "A room. Eight sided. Walls agleam. There was a spirit who spoke to Merlin. She accused him. I think...I think she might have left the room...through a wall. She was there and then gone. That's all I saw."

Aalef put a hand to his chin and looked to Nyra. "You say a dark sorcerer has done this?" Nyra nodded. "I need to find Rewi." He stood and darted away.

Nyra knelt down next to Carwyn and gripped his arm. "Are you alright?"

Carwyn leaned against her and nodded slowly, but focused on the raging bonfire. _Morgana is my aunt._ They were bound by blood. _And Merlin...told my father there was no place for magic in Camelot._ His heart burned with betrayal, impugning his absent guardian. _How could you say such a thing? What else have you done?_


	21. Regret

The door opened moments after Morgause departed. Rankin held only a cup in his hand. "You denied magic," he accused.

"I know," Merlin muttered.

"What?"

"I know!" Merlin snapped angrily. "I've regretted that ever since it happened! They didn't need to tell me!"

"Now do you understand how unworthy you are to be Emrys?"

A disturbing thought passed through Merlin's mind. _I'm unworthy to be myself._

"When you rejected magic, you rejected those who used it. Our despair and torture continued."

"Arthur...was fair," Merlin argued feebly.

"Is that why you didn't tell him who you were? In your heart, you knew he might kill you because he _had_ to."

 _Yes,_ Merlin admitted to himself. Arthur had exiled Gwen for her betrayal, a woman he loved to the depths of his soul. If the man Arthur considered his closest friend had deceived him for years, committing the worst crime in Camelot, what would he have deserved? Arthur would have been forced to confront the good of the kingdom versus the good of his friend, and Merlin sometimes pondered in the dark if death would have been his fate.

"Morgause, Morgana. They only sought to do what you did not."

Maybe that was true, Merlin conceded, but then shook his head. _No._ "They killed so many."

"How many have you killed in the pursuit of your own destiny?"

Merlin didn't want to go there. _Too many._

"So why judge them for doing the same? Because they endangered those close to you? Yet you killed many people you never knew for King Arthur's sake." Rankin walked up to the warlock and knelt in front of him, holding the cup to Merlin's lips. "Drink."

Merlin obeyed. The watered wine brought relief to his scorching thirst.

Rankin held the cup until Merlin drained it all, then looked hard into his eyes. "Destiny should have chosen someone else to be Emrys."

Merlin blinked lazily, his thoughts becoming muddled. _Someone else_. "Who?"

"You'll see. Rest." Rankin nudged Merlin backwards and the warlock slipped to the floor unconscious.

* * *

Nyra aided Carwyn back to Aalef's tent and directed him to a pallet. She poured a cup of water for him. Carwyn accepted it but drank slowly, brow creased, eyes unsettled. "Who is Rewi?" he asked quietly, recalling the person Aalef had said he should find.

"A very old Druid. A woman," Nyra explained. "She used to be an elder among us, but she desired more solitude the older she grew. She's a seer. Aalef knows her haunts. She still trails behind us, in need of us sometimes."

Carwyn's hands hurt. He looked down and realized he was gripping the cup so tightly his knuckles were pale. He set it down.

"Something troubles you," Nyra said. "Besides Emrys' imprisonment."

"Nothing troubles me," Carwyn lied. "I'm just worried for him." He lay down on the pallet turned away from Nyra.

"I thought you'd learned by now you can't lie to me, so stop doing it."

Carwyn sighed. He heard Nyra shuffle over to him and sit next to him. She lay a hand on his back, and he was surprised when she began moving it back and forth, a comforting gesture.

"It's not what you saw, is it?" Nyra whispered. "It's what you heard."

Carwyn gulped. He closed his eyelids against welling tears. He hated crying. It was stupid to cry over something like this.

"Tell me."

Carwyn steadied himself, wiping his eyes with a hand. "Morgana...she was my father's sister."

"Yes. Half-sister."

Carwyn jerked around in shock. "You know?"

"The Druids know this."

"How...why didn't I know?"

"I assume Emrys and your mother want to forget that part of their history. Morgana betrayed them. To remember her...it must hurt very much."

Carwyn bit his lip. Yes, that was probably true.

"But her relation to you makes no difference. She has passed from this world."

Carwyn lay back, staring at the tent ceiling. Nyra was right. His blood and Morgana's were related, but ultimately, this did not have an effect on his life.

"There's something else."

Carwyn glanced at the Druid, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. "Are _you_ a seer?"

Nyra laughed. "No."

"Then how do you know so much about your destiny?"

Nyra looked down. Carwyn felt he must have asked a question that was too personal. He sat up and lifted a tentative hand to her cheek. Nyra swallowed hard and gripped his wrist. "I've been to the Crystal Cave."

Carwyn tipped her chin with his other hand. Merlin had at least told him about this place, how it showed people things, how he'd been trapped there before the battle of Camlann. "What did you see?"

"Me fighting beside you."

Carwyn started when tears sprang in Nyra's eyes. He drew his hands away from her. "You don't have to follow me even if you've seen it," he spoke softly.

Nyra's gaze pierced him. "This is what I feared. That you would think my loyalty is false because it is foretold. It isn't. I want to fight beside you until I die."

Carwyn's heart thumped harshly, and he chuckled. "I could never doubt your loyalty."

"Just because I know my destiny," Nyra spoke vehemently, "doesn't mean I don't want it."

Goosebumps rose on Carwyn's arms. Sitting so close to her like this, he felt all he wanted to do was make love to her, but that certainly wouldn't be appropriate, not now, probably not ever.

"I know my destiny," Nyra spoke on, "as Emrys did...does. It's not easy to know what you have to do. You _can_ feel trapped by it, do things because of it. I look to Emrys for guidance, both to his victories and his failures."

Carwyn twisted his hands together. Nyra may not have been a seer, but her perception was unparalleled. "Merlin told my father there was no place for magic in Camelot."

"When?"

"I don't know. The shade, Morgause, said Merlin and my father had a chance to free magic, and Merlin told him not to."

"Do you know why Emrys said this?"

"No. The shade said he was too devoted to my father, but I don't see what that has to do with it."

Silence fell for a moment, then Nyra cleared her throat. "When I was a child, I idolized Aalef. Mother and father were disappointed in me, but Aalef always took my side. He could do no wrong in my eyes. Then one day, he was brought before the elders and accused of thievery. He'd stolen from an innocent traveling near us." Nyra looked down at her hands. "I was embarrassed, hurt, angry. He confessed and was punished. I didn't talk to him for weeks."

Carwyn had never seen his fiercest warrior so sorrowful. He laid a hand on her arm. "What happened?"

Nyra looked up at him. "I was too stubborn. He came to me first. He told me he had been wrong, but he also told me he had done it because one of our families was in debt to a man in a nearby town. They were being threatened with jail if they didn't repay what was owed. What Aalef did, it wasn't right, but at least when he told me his reasons, I found I couldn't hate him anymore."

Nyra grasped Carwyn's arm, her grey eyes intent. "If you don't know why Emrys said what he did or when he said it, you know very little. Don't condemn him before you know more."

Carwyn lowered his gaze.

"Emrys is held in high esteem by my people not because he did everything right. We hold him highly because he faced decisions more difficult than any man has in a lifetime. And yet he is unsullied. His heart has been battered and mistreated, and still he loves and seeks good."

Carwyn raised his eyes when Nyra laid an unexpected hand on his cheek.

"Emrys is devoted to you. Don't throw away what he has done for you in light of his past."

Carwyn covered Nyra's hand on his cheek with his own.

"Emrys needs you now more than he ever has. These shades, what you have seen, they are telling him everything wrong he has ever done. I can only imagine how much pain it is causing his soul."

Carwyn nodded. She was right. Memories flowed through him—Merlin always on his side, always guiding him, always faithful—and the stories of Merlin's loyalty to his father, their unique friendship. Merlin had done so much good. _I can't let this one thing define him._

Nyra made to move her hand away, but Carwyn tightened his grip. He peered into her questioning eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Nyra stiffened and drew back. Carwyn dropped her hand as heat flashed in his cheeks. "I'm...sorry."

Nyra looked away from him.

 _You idiot!_ Carwyn chastised himself. "Forgive me. It was inappropriate." Now she wouldn't stay with him for sure!

"It's not time," Nyra spoke so quietly, Carwyn barely heard it.

"What?"

Nyra looked back at him. She smiled. "I forgive you."

Carwyn smiled sheepishly back.

* * *

Merlin's eyelids fluttered open and he groaned. His head felt thick and his sight was blurred. He tried to put one thought in front of other and gave up, content to stare at the ceiling flickering with dim light. Slowly, his mind came back to him, replaying the hours—days?—he had been entrapped in darkness. This place was the worst truth for the soul. He had suffered guilt, yes, but had talked it away over the years. Now, he realized he never should have. He deserved the guilt. He had been a coward not to live in it.

Merlin sucked in a deep breath, let it out gradually, and pulled his throbbing body up. His arms and legs quivered with the effort. He meant to count the walls again, assess how many gateways were left, when an object laid within his reach caught his eye. His stomach dropped.

A sword rested in front of him, unremarkable in most respects, save the missing tip. Why was it here? Did Rankin think he had decided to end this once and for all? Merlin glanced around the octagonal room, now counting. Three more gateways remaining. _Do I have the strength?_

Merlin gazed on the sword, blood rushing through his veins and memories through his mind. His right hand shook as he fingered the hilt. He had seen it plunge into Arthur in the vision Uther showed him. He gripped the handle and held the sword in front of his eyes. He focused on the damaged end. Wherever Arthur rested, the point of it remained, embedded in his heart.

Merlin's lips trembled. The events after the battle of Camlann rushed through him—carrying a wounded Arthur away from the battlefield; his confession; Arthur's mistrust; Gaius sending them away; painful hours trying to make it to the Lake of Avalon. And in between, conversations he should have had with Arthur long before he died. They'd said so much and too little. Merlin desperately wanted that time back, to say things he meant to and didn't. If he'd known he would fail...

Merlin's throat tightened and a deep wail ushered forth. He wept freely for his friend, his king, his life, his mistakes.

* * *

Rankin spied through the crystal, a smug smile crossing his face. He hadn't expected Emrys to kill himself, hadn't laid the sword before him for that purpose. The warlock had done exactly as he wanted—faced the truth of who he really was.

"Your greatest love," Rankin whispered, "was your greatest failure."

The sword was a tangible reminder of the warlock's unworthiness to be Emrys, but it also served another purpose. It would stir the coming shade to action.

* * *

Carwyn yawned loudly and opened his eyes. Sunlight hit the tent wall in a thin ribbon and Carwyn followed it to the slit in the tent entrance. He pushed himself up, gazing groggily at his surroundings. Neither Nyra nor her brother were present. He discovered a basin of water, a cup, two cloths, and a cake of soap had been laid at his feet. He flushed. He hadn't bathed since they'd left for Ingarsoll. Nyra must have noticed.

Carwyn crawled to the end of the pallet, sat back on his knees, and pulled off his shirt. He submerged the cloth and systematically washed down as best he could. He dipped the cup in the water, then leaned over the bowl, pouring the water through his hair. He soaped it, then rinsed. He picked up the dry cloth and sponged his curly locks. The tent flap drew back and Nyra entered. She glanced at him, then turned away, staring at the other side of the tent.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your privacy, my lord."

Carwyn felt his heart sink. She had donned her chain mail once more, and her hair was braided and circled on top of her head. He shook his head when he caught himself wishing he'd taken the opportunity to run his hand through her hair when it was loose.

"It's alright," Carwyn said.

"I wanted to bring you a fresh shirt," Nyra went on, still turned away. "I've had your armor attended to." It was then Carwyn realized his chain mail and armor were missing.

Nyra reached behind her back, a blue shirt in her hand. Carwyn rose and took it from her, smiling humorously at her modesty. As he slipped into the shirt, which turned out to be a perfect fit, he caught a sweet scent. Nyra had obviously bathed as well. Carwyn squeezed his eyes shut. _You need to think about Merlin, clotpole, not your Druid warrior._

"I'm decent," Carwyn said. Nyra turned and didn't smile back at him. "Something's wrong?"

"No," Nyra said. "But Aalef has returned with Rewi."

"Where is she?"

"Here. Come."

Carwyn followed Nyra out of the tent to find Aalef tending a pot over a fire and an ancient woman perching on a log in front of it. Every inch of her thin skin bore a wrinkle. Her gray hair was long and wispy, like tendrils of mist. Her eyes were glazed over with film, and Carwyn thought this ironic for a great seer.

Nyra walked up to the woman. "Prince Carwyn," she introduced.

The old woman spoke in a worn voice. "So it is."

Carwyn didn't waste time. "I am told you can help me."

"Hm," the old woman intoned. "Perhaps. Sit and eat."

"I need to find Merlin. If you could just tell me..."

" _Sit and eat_."

Carwyn looked at Nyra who handed him a bowl of vegetable porridge. Carwyn sat down and dug in, actually quite hungry despite the feast from the night before.

"Tell me," the old woman said, "what you saw."

Carwyn glanced at Aalef. "Aalef didn't inform you?"

"I would like to hear it from you."

Carwyn swallowed another bite of porridge. "I saw a room. A prison maybe. I'm not sure. There were eight walls. One might have been a door. I think I saw that a previous time."

"And the walls?"

"They were oddly clear and dark, but alight, only dimly."

"And you saw a sorcerer?"

"Not this time, but before I think."

"And spirits?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

Carwyn thought back. "My grandfather, Uther Pendragon. A woman. I didn't know her. She had long hair, a strange tattered dress, bright eyes. A man clothed in black. He was the most angry. He said Uther killed his sister and brother. And Morgause." A woman they all knew from history.

"These are all people who despise Emrys."

Carwyn nodded as he finished off his first bowl of porridge. Aalef reached over with a ladle to refill it.

"They have been brought forth by the deepest of dark magic. I fear the reason."

Carwyn lowered his spoon. "What is the reason?"

Rewi rubbed at her temple. "I see much, but this is hidden from me. Yet I sense more than the destruction of Emrys at hand. There is a deeper purpose." She dropped her hand and Carwyn swallowed hard when her glazed over eyes bore into his. "You must find Emrys and stop the evil that he will awake."

Carwyn cocked his head. "The evil _Merlin_ will awake?"

"His power put to wicked use will destroy us all."

"How?"

Rewi shook her head. "No more can I sense than this."

Carwyn sighed. He'd heard seers' knowledge was fickle. He guessed it was true.

Another Druid approached Aalef's tent, carrying Carwyn's arming coat, chain mail, and armor. Nyra took them and thanked him. She turned expectantly to the prince.

Carwyn stood. "Do you know _where_ Merlin is?"

Rewi pressed a hand against her heart. "It is a place long forgotten that should have remained so for all time. Dark forces hewed it for dark deeds. It spews forth death and pain and emptiness. It breaks and maims."

Carwyn wished the seer would be more direct. "Where is it?" he repeated.

Rewi motioned to Aalef, who stood and handed Carwyn a piece of parchment. "I drew a map with Rewi's instructions."

Carwyn took it, grateful Nyra's brother had been more practical. Carwyn ran his eye over it. He shook his head in frustration. The location wasn't too far from Combe. They had been nearby all along. He should have guessed the sorcerer had lured Merlin right where he wanted him. Carwyn ran a finger from the Druid encampment to the location where Aalef had written "caverns."

Carwyn looked up. "Merlin is in these caverns."

Rewi tilted her head. "Underneath them. The path inside the caverns will lead you to him."

Carwyn bowed his head to the woman. "Thank you for your aid." He looked to Aalef. "And yours."

"Find Emrys. That is all the thanks I need," Aalef replied.

Carwyn retrieved his armor from Nyra and began to put it on. The Druid helped him as he needed it and soon he stood at the ready.

"Our horses are saddled and wait for us," Nyra said. She strode over to Aalef, and the sister and brother embraced once more.

Aalef cupped Nyra's chin in his hands. "You know my pride goes with you."

"And my heart with you," Nyra returned. She pulled back from her brother and paced to Carwyn's side. She bowed her head to him, then turned. Before he could follow her, he felt a vice grip on his arm. He turned to see Aalef fixing him with a hard stare.

"She is as strong as iron, but her heart as vulnerable as any man's. Do not misuse it."

Carwyn's heart quickened. How much had Aalef perceived? "I won't," he promised. "You have my word."

* * *

Merlin flinched as the door opened once more. The sword lay at his feet, and Rankin glanced at it when he entered.

"Disappointed?" Merlin asked bitterly.

Rankin shook his head. "Not in the least."

Merlin tried to assess the truthfulness of Rankin's declaration. He had thought the sorcerer would have found great pleasure in his dead corpse. But...no, he remembered. Rankin kept hinting at a reason he needed to live. Then why even offer a way out?

Rankin held out a roll. "Will you eat?"

Merlin focused on the bread. He wished he could, but hunger had fled from him, leaving him with grief for his food. "I don't need it."

"I worry over your strength. You should try." Rankin stepped forward and pushed the roll into Merlin's right hand.

"Have you drugged it like my drink?"

Rankin smiled and shook his head. "No."

Merlin stared at Rankin for a moment, then leaned down awkwardly to his side, taking a bite. He chewed mechanically and swallowed. Rankin didn't take his eyes from him until he had devoured it all.

"Two more must speak with you," Rankin said. "The end is in sight for you, Emrys."

Merlin numbered the walls. Two? He counted three.

Rankin walked back to the door, chanting the now familiar spell, then leaving like always.

Merlin looked to his left at the next gateway. Thinking back over his past, he wondered who would come through. He'd wronged so many. Who would get their revenge this time? _Whoever it is_ , he thought darkly, _I probably deserve it._

The tendril squeezed his body; Merlin endured it. It retreated. A form stepped into the room. Merlin stared, then cried out, and shouted in a rage. "Se haeftmece! Araeme ond abreode!" The sword rose from the ground, shooting towards the shade as Merlin shrieked at the red-hot pain flaming from his wrists and ankles.

The shade didn't move. The sword plunged through its body and struck the crystal wall, clattering to the ground.

"You cannot hurt me, Emrys. You cannot betray me." The sword lifted up, floating back through the shade and bobbing up and down at its right side. The shade stared at it for a moment, expressionless, then moved his placid gaze to Merlin.

"You have but one choice," Mordred said. "To listen."


	22. Betrayal

"He...completed a spell."

Rankin stared into the crystal as shocked as his second. No sorcerer should have been able to bring a spell to fruition in the enchanted manacles. Granted, Emrys had paid for it, writhing on the floor in agony, but still...he had done it.

"How?"

Rankin shook his head, rattled. "I don't know."

"What if he does it again?"

Rankin put a hand to his chin, stroking his beard. Emrys had tried the spells to release his bonds, and they hadn't worked. _But he wasn't so angry then._ What if his heightened emotion was to blame? "I don't know that he can," Rankin covered, truly afraid of the same thing. What if Emrys realized his true power? They were so close to completion. He could only pray that Emrys' state, and the pain he was now experiencing, meant he let the breach of power go unnoticed.

* * *

Carwyn rode close to Nyra as she retraced their way through the maze of rock formations. She kept glancing back, and he finally mentioned it. "I'm not going to wander off like a little child."

Nyra cocked her head.

"You keep looking back."

Embarrassment graced her features. "I'm not concerned for you."

Carwyn felt a bit affronted that she _wasn't_ looking back at him. "What then?"

"Nothing." She turned her eyes forward.

"Home," Carwyn stated.

"Camelot?" Nyra asked.

"No, yours. You don't want to leave." When Nyra didn't answer, Carwyn knew he'd hit on the truth. "I understand. Your people, they have peace. Not just a lack of war, but peace in their hearts."

Nyra glanced back at him again, a wistful look on her face. "Yes."

"It's a wonder you choose fighting over that," Carwyn teased.

"I choose _you_ over that," Nyra said, turning away again.

Carwyn's heart sailed into his throat. She chose _him_. Was this only because of her destiny? She had promised to be devoted to him regardless. The thought both comforted and unnerved him. He'd never had anyone tell him what his purpose was. Oh, there was the general instruction from his mother about duty and honor and a king's role in the lives of his people, but never anything specific. What would it be like to _know_? Like Nyra did. Like Merlin did.

A bolt of rage charged through his mind, and Carwyn pulled back hard on his horse's reins, causing the steed to rear up. He held on, even as anger swallowed him and his vision was overtaken by a familiar dark room. A sword plunged through another shade. Carwyn clamped his hands tighter on the reins, knowing immediately this was the man who killed his father.

"My lord?" Nyra's voice came from afar.

"Another...connection...Merlin," he managed between clenched teeth. His wrists and ankles had begun to throb.

"We'll stop," Nyra said. She touched his arm, but he pushed her away.

"No...Keep moving." He leaned over his horse, wrapping his arms around its thick neck.

"Sire..."

"Can't...waste...time...Lead my horse...Go on!"

* * *

Merlin could barely move. Any slight motion wrenched crying moans from his throat. He flexed his fingers and toes and suppressed the urge to vomit. He gulped, breathing slowly, trying to control himself. At least the movement meant he still had hands and feet. He'd feared the intense pain meant they'd been sheared clean off.

"That was quite foolish," Mordred said without malice or taunting. A simple fact.

Merlin silently agreed.

"I can't blame you for your anger," the shade spoke on. "I share it."

Merlin hazarded to turn his head and gaze up at Mordred.

"Do you think I am proud of what I became? Of what you made me?"

Merlin spoke through gritted teeth. "What _I_ made you?"

Mordred's pale eyes reflected accusation and betrayal. "The mighty Emrys. Whose loyalty was restricted to those he deemed worthy enough."

Merlin attempted to sit up and failed.

"If you had shown me but a little kindness..." the shade turned away, taking several short steps. He stopped, staring fixedly ahead. "I would have followed you, Emrys." Mordred's gaze turned on Merlin once more. "We could have been friends."

"I did...lie for you," Merlin gasped out.

Mordred's eyes became daggers. "Only when it suited your purpose. I kept your secret and you betrayed me."

Merlin didn't have to ask what the shade meant. "She wanted Arthur to die."

"She was my friend, my beloved, one of _us_!" Mordred stepped towards Merlin and he instinctively tired to back away. "Do you know what I heard after my death? Whispering tales of Emrys and your great hypocrisy."

Merlin firmed his jaw and forced himself to sit up, blowing air through his teeth. "You were the hypocrite. Speaking of love and loyalty. You killed Arthur!"

"And who made me do it? You!" Mordred jabbed a finger in Merlin's direction. "You loved as I did—a Druid. She was a monstrous beast and you protected her!"

Merlin's visage darkened. "Freya was under a curse. Kara chose treason."

"Because she was tired of being hunted down! What would you have not done for the woman you loved? If she had not been wounded beyond aid, would you have revealed the truth to save others from her? Can you not see my love was just as strong?"

Merlin looked down at the floor, trying to think through the pain. He wouldn't have told anyone about Freya ever. But he had been so young then, his love passionate and trusting. He would have left his destiny behind to make her his life. Mordred had been young like he, there were parallels and yet...

"I would have kept your secret if she hadn't intended Arthur harm."

Mordred laughed aloud. "You _never_ trusted me. Her life was worth far less than Arthur's because you hated me."

"I didn't hate..."

"You did! Everywhere I went, everything I did, you were there watching, waiting for me to fail, because you had your own secret—a prophecy you didn't dare share with those who could have avoided it!"

A chilling thought caused Merlin to shiver. What if he _had_ told Mordred? He hadn't ever considered it.

Mordred knelt down, staring into Merlin's eyes. "When Kara hung, I died with her, but you had pushed me down that path long before I saw her again. Your suspicions drove me to an unwelcome destiny. I am a king killer because of _you_."

"You chose your path."

"No, Emrys. You chose it. You denied magic freedom in Camelot and my life was spared. You coveted your prophecy. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me? I never wanted to be what I am!"

Merlin's chest constricted painfully as he looked into Mordred's eyes—such regret and pain. _Why didn't I just tell him? Why didn't I make him a friend instead of an enemy?_ Mordred was right. Merlin hadn't trusted him enough to do so. He'd expected the worst, waiting for Mordred to go wrong. And even when he'd seemed to do something kind, like keep Mordred's secret about Kara, he had done it less for Mordred and far more for Arthur, because he feared what Mordred might do if he were ever unhappy with the king.

"I followed a path championed by Emrys. What could I do but fulfill what I knew nothing of?"

Merlin's mind rang with doubt. Had treating Mordred as untrustworthy simply pushed him towards prophecy? Merlin felt defeat crushing his soul. "If I could go back..." he whispered.

"But you can't," Mordred said bitterly. "You cannot redeem yourself. You cannot make mistakes right, forget that you denied magic, forget that you cared less about those like you than you did Arthur. What were we but potential dangers to your king? That's how you saw us. We weren't people to you. We were threats to be eliminated."

Had he been that cold? Merlin's thoughts jumbled, the accusations of the shades swirling through his mind, tumbling in rapid fire voices.

"Worst of all," Mordred's voice was barely a whisper, "everything you did led to the death of your king." The sword moved from Mordred's side, hovering in front of Merlin's eyes. "A sword forged in a dragon's breath. Its touch is anguish." Mordred's eyes locked onto Merlin's. "Have you ever thought about how much Arthur suffered? You can only imagine. I _know_."

The sword turned horizontal and Merlin flinched as it lay against his throat. It pressed in and sliced skin. Merlin's head spun as burning pain shot through him from his head to his toes as if he stood within a dragon's fiery assault.

"I felt this the moment I was pierced, but Arthur...It tormented him until death." Mordred's voice was heavy with sorrow.

Merlin had known Arthur had been in pain, but this... _I hatched Aithusa. I didn't look for her. This sword is my fault...Everything is my fault. All of it. Destiny played me for a fool._

* * *

Carwyn clung so tightly to his horse's neck the poor creature blew out an uncomfortable breath. As Nyra obeyed his command to press on, he existed in a dual world, feeling his horse trotting beneath him, but his mind entrapped in a dark room leagues away. Something else Merlin hadn't told him struck him—he'd loved a cursed Druid woman. Merlin had said he loved a woman who died, but she'd been sick. Carwyn heard it and discarded it. It didn't matter because after his conversation with Nyra he'd decided Merlin had a right to his own secrets, whatever they may be. He was far more disturbed by the shade who was guilty of his father's death. He watched as the man manipulated and twisted the truth, placing blame for his own actions on the warlock whose devotion to King Arthur had become legendary.

Carwyn held his breath as the shade placed the sword that had killed his father to Merlin's throat. He jolted when a burning sensation spiked through his body and tightened his grip on his horse. _My father felt this as he died._ And then Carwyn heard Merlin's voice, but not aloud. Rather, he _felt_ Merlin's voice, his guardian capitulating to lies, blaming himself for the sword that had killed the king and every evil that had befallen Camelot. Carwyn felt the utter despair, the self revulsion, and he cried aloud.

"No! Merlin! No!"

* * *

 _No! Merlin! No!_

Merlin's eyes wandered back and forth, blurry with tears. "C...Carwyn?"

"You think of Arthur's heir," Mordred spoke. "The boy whose father was taken from him...by you."

 _Merlin! It's not true! Not any of it!_

Merlin turned his pounding head side to side. He began to laugh ruefully. His conscience was rising to defend him even now, taking the voice of the child he loved as dearly as Arthur. But whatever form it took, Merlin knew he had no defense.

"I think you understand now," Mordred said. He rose from the ground and walked to the gateway. "Farewell, Emrys." He stepped back through the veil.

* * *

"Help him down!"

Carwyn heard Nyra shouting and arms dragging him from his horse. The room faded from his sight, replaced by his warriors leaning over him, eyes fearful. Carwyn found Nyra's arm and gripped it. "The map," he spoke hoarsely.

"You were screaming," Nyra said.

"It doesn't matter," Carwyn insisted vehemently. "The map!"

Nyra pulled out of his grasp. He heard her rustling in his saddle bag, then returning and speaking in a rush. "We know where Emrys is. Here, near Combe. We have to get to these caverns."

"Combe?" Moeris asked.

"We were so close," Pello groaned.

Carwyn pushed himself up. They were wasting time. Nyra was at his side immediately, helping him stand. "We ride. Now!"

"But you can't..." Phipp started.

"Now!" Carwyn shouted. This torture of his guardian could go on no longer, and heaven help the sorcerer who'd devised it in the first place.

* * *

Merlin sank to the floor, exhausted, tearful, shattered. The voices of the shades echoed in his mind, shouting his crimes. Two repeated themselves above the rest. _I kept what I knew to myself._ He didn't warn about the prophecies he saw except for vague hints. _I didn't stand up for my kind._ He helped at times, but his devotion lay with a royal household that condemned magic. All of his failure traced back to one cause: his single minded focus on Arthur.

 _If I hadn't been so obsessed with protecting Arthur, I could have done so much more._ Merlin sucked in a trembling breath as he confessed the truth. _But he was my friend...he was..._ Merlin gasped. That was where he'd gone wrong. No one had ever said his destiny was to be Arthur's friend. He was to protect Arthur so he could build a kingdom, nothing more. He'd been a servant for this purpose, but he'd risen far above his station by befriending Arthur.

Merlin groaned. The relationship he'd thought mattered most had betrayed his destiny. It had taken away his objectivity and left a scared man in its place, tossed about by the winds of fear, making choices that led to Arthur's demise, the destruction of magic wielders, the personal pain of others he slighted for the king. _I should never have cared so much about him._

The door creaked open. Rankin entered, his eyes ablaze. "You killed Mordred's love. You turned her in. But it wasn't enough death to satisfy you."  
Rankin's chin quivered and tears slipped from his eyes. "More death you sought. I stood in a crowd and watched the woman who loved me more than anything die, another death on your hands. You said she couldn't be trusted. You put doubt in their minds."

"Who?" Merlin whispered.

"No one asked why she did it. They just killed her. She did it for _me_. We needed the money. But she was an idealist as well. She believed in Morgana's cause⸺true freedom."

Rankin's eyes flashed gold and the sword flew through the air into his hands. "You deserve death!" He rushed forward, pulling Merlin up by his shirt and swinging the sword towards his neck.

Merlin didn't move, didn't even cringe. The sword stopped, pressing into Merlin's skin. Merlin stared into Rankin's raging eyes. "Do it." _End this._

Rankin's harsh breath was the only sound in the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The sword pressed harder. Merlin welcomed death.

Rankin stumbled back. "Argh!" He shouted to the door and left.

Merlin fell backwards, hating that he'd cheated death once more.

* * *

Rankin leaned against the door, sword shaking in his hand, trying to regain control of himself. He'd almost wrecked the reason for all of this.

"Are you alright?'

Rankin's second in command stood a few meters away, concern in his eyes. "Yes." He pushed off the door and trudged down the hallway.

"What of Emrys?"

"He has broken. Soon we will have what is his for our own." Soon the warlock's ordeal would end once and for all. _And_ our _victory will begin._


	23. Poison

Carwyn galloped at the front of his warriors, back to the south, back towards Combe. He pushed his horse with his heels and with magic, strengthening the steed. The warriors together conjured a wind at their backs to increase their speed even more as Merlin had taught them. They had to get to their beloved warlock before it was too late.

Rewi's warning rang in Carwyn's ears: _His power put to wicked use will destroy us all_. Whatever this sorcerer wanted from Merlin, Carwyn knew he was close to getting it. And from what he had felt, Merlin had little, if any, strength left to fight back.

* * *

Rankin paced back and forth in the room down the hall from the dark crystal chamber. His heart beat in fevered anticipation. So very close. So soon now. He wanted to rush down there right now and let her in, but no. Patience. Emrys needed to rest so he'd have enough strength left to give them what they wanted. And he would. Oh, he would. Rankin tasted triumph on the air.

* * *

Merlin lay with eyes closed, his mind and his body broken. His thoughts had ceased. Fate had led him to the deepest dark of himself, and all he desired was a way out. He let go, banishing any hope he had left, and succumbed to a restless slumber...

* * *

Carwyn slid from his horse the moment they reached the rocky outcropping indicated on Rewi's map. He dashed back and forth, searching for an entrance. The warriors fanned out, following his lead. As time passed, Carwyn's heart sank and hot tears rose in his eyes. This _had_ to be the right place. It _had_ to.

"Here! Over here!" Droyn called.

Carwyn rushed towards his warrior's voice. A crevice low to the ground, only as wide as a man, cracked through grayish rock. Carwyn crouched down. Nyra pushed in front of him. "I'll go first."

Carwyn put a hand on her shoulder to pull her back. "I'm _not_ letting you."

Nyra shoved his hand away. "You are our prince. Our lives are nothing compared to yours."

Carwyn stared into her intense eyes, and his voice softened. "That's not true." Nyra brought a hand up to his cheek, and Carwyn heard a bit of muttering behind them as the warriors observed the intimate action.

"It's true. You will be king of Camelot. Let me do what I was born to do."

Carwyn took a shuddering breath and nodded. Nyra squeezed through the fissure, Carwyn and the warriors on her heels.

* * *

Merlin raised aching eyelids and blinked away haze. He stared at the ceiling. _I still live. Why?_ Rankin had wanted him dead, and yet he lived. _I don't deserve to live._

Merlin imagined passing beyond the veil. Perhaps there he could curl up in Gaius' arms and forget all that had gone before, forget that fate had dealt him a hand where he was the very definition of suffering. His father had told him in the Crystal Cave that he was pure magic. Maybe pure magic wasn't meant to exist. His very presence violated the world.

The door creaked; Merlin cringed. _Let me die now. Please._ He conjured Gaius in his mind. _I just want to be with him._

Rankin appeared, holding a water skin. He strode up to the warlock and bent down beside him. "You must drink."

Merlin shook his head.

"I'm not giving you a choice." He lifted Merlin's head with one hand and held the skin to his lips with the other. "Drink or you choke."

Merlin gave in, letting the water slip down his throat. A tingling sensation fizzed in his stomach. "Poison."

Rankin shook his head. "No. Something to help you."

A tremor of magic rippled through his body, and gooseflesh rose on his arms. Whatever Rankin had given him connected with the deepest magic of his being.

Rankin stood, leaving the water skin on the floor. "Now you are ready." He approached the sixth gateway and spoke quietly. "Gast awaecne. Emrys abideep dom." He backtracked to the door and out.

Merlin closed his eyes, little caring which shade appeared next. He felt the tightness of the tendril as it wrapped around his body, felt magic flow away from him, felt the tendril release. He waited for a greeting, an accusation, more pain, something. Nothing for a couple seconds, then two tender hands cupped his cheeks.

"Merlin, what have they done to you?"

Merlin opened shocked eyes. "Morgana?" She stared back at him, not the woman he had killed, but the woman he had known before everything went wrong. And there was such compassion in her gaze that he clung to it like a dying man.

* * *

Carwyn and his warriors crouched low, hiking single file down a rocky corridor, conjured lights in their hands flickering off the walls. Nyra stepped out into a larger cave. She held her light up high, gazing around. There was no obvious way forward.

"It would probably be hidden," Carwyn said, pushing past her. The warriors spread out, scrutinizing the cave walls. They searched for some time and his third time around the walls, Carwyn growled in frustration.

Nyra approached him. "Try to reach out to Emrys."

Carwyn looked questioningly at her. "How?"

"The magic in you came from him. Reach inside and speak to it. Maybe it is drawn to him."

Carwyn nodded thoughtfully, inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. Childhood lessons came back to him–—Merlin counseling him to draw on nature to augment his abilities. He banished everything from his mind but the caverns. Water dripped along one wall, leaking into a small pool. Blind fish lazily swam within it. Cave salamanders scurried across the floor. Plant roots dug through the roof. A family of bats slept far above in a protected corner. His warriors pulsed with magic. He drew it all into himself, layer upon layer. Then he reached inside, coaxing his magic awake. He thought of Merlin, the man who was guardian, and mentor, and father. He felt a gentle tug.

Carwyn opened his eyes and followed the pull to the right side of the cave. "Here."

Pello ran up to the wall. "Aetie." A portion of the wall melted away revealing a series of steps sloping downwards. Pello turned, grinning.

* * *

"I killed you," Merlin mumbled.

"Shhhh. Forget that for now," Morgana insisted. She sank down in front of him.

The invisible hands continued to hold him. "Don't you...want my death?"

"No," Morgana said, her eyes lowering. "I'm sorry, Merlin. For all I did. So very sorry."

Tears sprang to Merlin's eyes. "I am, too."

Morgana looked up at him, sorrow in her features. "I know you are. It wasn't all bad, though, was it? Not in the beginning. We worked so well together, you and I. Each of us leading Arthur to be better than he was." She smiled softly. "And subverting Uther." Her eyes twinkled.

Merlin smiled, recalling good times. "Yes. I remember."

"Do you remember when we went to Ealdor? To save your village? We did it for you, Merlin, because you had done so much for us, for Arthur and Gwen and I."

Merlin recalled the event of so long ago. How proud he had been to have such committed friends. "You didn't even have to come."

"Why wouldn't I? I saw your loyalty to us before Arthur did."

 _Probably so_ , Merlin thought.

Morgana pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Camelot," she sighed. "The feasts, the dancing, the summer sun on the battlements, the winter nights huddled in front of the fires, laughing and chatting. I miss it so very much."

Merlin felt the influx of sudden guilt. "I...took that away from you, didn't I?"

"No. No, of course you didn't. Uther turned me against Camelot. That and...destiny."

Destiny. Merlin found he hated the very word.

"Though..." Morgana turned her head, glancing at the water skin Rankin had left behind. It rose from the ground and hovered in front of her.

Merlin's heart dropped. "I poisoned you."

* * *

Carwyn stalled on the stairs causing Pello to bump into him.

"Sire?" Pello asked.

The stairs had disappeared, replaced by Merlin's prison and a woman he recognized: Morgana Pendragon. He'd always thought of her as a crazed lunatic, despite the small portrait he'd seen in the library where she appeared entirely normal. Now, though, she reflected the portrait—calm, quiet, serene. He heard Merlin say he'd poisoned her. Poisoned her? He'd killed her with his father's sword, Excalibur. When had he ever poisoned her? No tale mentioned such an event.

Nyra laid a hand on Carwyn's shoulder. "Are you seeing it again?"

"Yes," Carwyn confirmed, though he was confused. So far he'd seen the octagonal room when Merlin was in danger. He didn't seem to be in danger from Morgana's shade. Quite the opposite.

"Go on," Nyra commanded. "I'll see to him." Carwyn felt the warriors squeeze past him and heard their steps descending. "Take my hand." Carwyn gripped the hand Nyra pressed into his. She leaned into his side, guiding him along.

* * *

"You thought you had to," Morgana said resignedly. The water skin floated to the ground between them.

"It tore me up to do it," Merlin whispered. "And...I shouldn't have. By the gods, Morgana, it was wrong. So wrong."

Morgana had turned away from him, staring emptily at a wall. "I felt so betrayed. So hurt. Choking, dying...in _your_ arms." Her voice cracked with emotion. "I didn't understand how you could just cradle me and watch me die."

Merlin said nothing, memory thrown back to the event, observing his attempted murder in action. Another criminal choice on his part.

 _You poisoned her? When? Why?_

Merlin blinked. It was Carwyn's voice again, unsettled and shocked. His conscience accusing him once more.

Morgana frowned. "I guess it was only what you had to do. You, my doom foretold. Emrys."

"I didn't...want to kill you...Truly, I didn't."

"But destiny made you, didn't it? It made me do things, too, awful things. We were playthings of fate, you and I."

Merlin found himself nodding.

"And so, I died, and you lived. But, Merlin, I know you hated what destiny did to you. You told me so."

"Told you?"

"Before you killed me. You said you blamed yourself for what I became." Morgana looked to him sorrowfully. "If only you had helped me. If you had guided me, shared your secret with me. We could have helped each other live in a world that hated those like us."

Yes, Merlin thought. He had thought of doing so and he regretted he hadn't. Why did he listen to Gaius? He could have taken away her fear and loneliness.

"Maybe everything would have been different then."

Merlin swallowed hard. "I should have."

"I wish there were a way to make up for all I did. For you to escape your hellish destiny." Morgana glanced fearfully to the door. "He plans to take your life. It will end here in this awful place."

Merlin nodded slowly. "I'm ready to die."

Morgana smiled sadly. "Your magic will be wasted. Surely the world cannot lose you?"

"If I stay," Merlin spoke bitterly, "I will only hurt more people."

Morgana lifted a hand and an invisible caress traced along Merlin's cheek and arm. He felt a light pull and looked down. A small tendril of mist trailed from Morgana's hand to his arm. His magic seeped into it, glowing an ethereal blue.

"What..." Merlin stared. The blue stopped moving.

"I'm so weak. So tired," Morgana said. "Your magic sustains me. If I don't draw on it, I cannot stay much longer."

"Oh. Why did it stop?"

"You have to give it to me."

Merlin met her eyes, so very kind and frail. He didn't want her to leave, didn't want to lose the only compassion he'd felt in days and be left to Rankin's devices, not yet. "Yes. Of course." The blue flowed freely.

Morgana took a deep breath. "It feels like...living again."

Merlin smiled at her in satisfaction. "If I could only bring you back."

Morgana chuckled sadly. "You could. But, you won't."

"But...I don't have such power."

"You do, Merlin," Morgana insisted. "Here," she waved around the room, "you do."

* * *

Carwyn jerked a hand to his head.

"My lord?" Nyra asked, pausing on a step.

His head pounded in warning. Morgana's soft words, they were...wrong, false.

"What are you seeing?"

"Morgana."

Nyra's grip tightened on his arm. "What is she saying?" Nyra's voice was hard.

"Merlin poisoned her. Killed her, but...she seems to have forgiven him."

"Morgana? Forgive?"

"Something isn't right. She says Merlin can bring her back to the living."

"Necromancy," Nyra spat out in disgust.

"Merlin wouldn't ever..."

"Morgana was a fine deceiver," Nyra warned. She pulled on Carwyn, moving faster down the steps.

* * *

"How?" Merlin asked.

"Give me more of your magic."

"But..."

Morgana sighed. "I know it's wishful thinking, but...to feel again. To live again. To be able to walk with you like we used to. Picnics in the forest. You brought me flowers, do you remember?"

Merlin chuckled. "Arthur told me to."

"Well, you still brought them. And then, you told me stories, jokes. If I could sit by your side again..."

Merlin thought back, recalling long gone days when all was well in Camelot. In his mind, he saw Morgana relaxed in front of a fireplace, snuggled in a furred wrap, smiling up at him as he entered her chamber with Arthur. Arthur sat next to her, and she beckoned Merlin to join them. Arthur rolled his eyes, but Morgana wouldn't hear of Merlin standing to the side like a faithful dog. What he wouldn't give to have those days again! Simple, carefree, no threats, no destiny. Just comfortable friendship.

"Can shades live again?" Merlin asked in wonder.

"We just need the right power to strengthen us."

Merlin considered her and tried to sit up, failing. "Rankin will never let me out of here."

Morgana laughed. "He would have no choice. I could make him." Morgana pointed to the manacles on Merlin's wrists. "You are confined. But if you give me your magic, I will have it, and this trivial sorcerer would be unable to stop _me_." Merlin felt a hand run through his hair and he closed his eyes, cherishing the tender gesture. "Merlin, let me help you. Let me make up for all I did. I will save you, and you will save me, and we will both have a second chance to make it all right."

Another chance. What he wouldn't give for that, to scrub away his crimes. He couldn't go back to the past, but...He opened his eyes, locking his gaze on the young woman he'd first known when he came to Camelot. He could make it up to her.

Merlin looked to the tendril around his arm. The blue grew more intense as he let his magic go.

* * *

The warriors reached the bottom of the steps and hurried down a dark corridor.

"Where is he?" Nyra asked.

Carwyn didn't answer.

"Carwyn?"

"He's giving her his magic," Carwyn mumbled.

"Then tell us where he is! We must stop him!"

Carwyn felt for the tug. "Up ahead, to the right." The warriors continued down the hall, then turned right. Nyra came to an abrupt halt and Carwyn heard a gasp. "What is it?"

"A large chamber," Nyra stammered. "And an altar...with a body."

"A body?"

"Morgana."

"Morgana?"

"It's like...she never died," came Reynfrey's awed voice.

"How is it possible?" Phipp asked.

"What in the..." Alec spoke, then broke off.

"What?" Carwyn asked anxiously.

"She's...glowing," Pello answered.

"And gaining color," Nyra added. She grabbed Carwyn by the shoulders. "Emrys is bringing her back from the dead! And she will have his power!"

The horror of the truth shot through Carwyn's mind as he saw Morgana smiling as Merlin handed over all that he was to her.

A series of footsteps echoed in the room. Carwyn's warriors shouted, and Nyra pushed him backwards. He careened into a wall, air knocked out of his lungs. He slumped down. Nyra wrapped him in an embrace. "Stay still!" she ordered.

Carwyn sucked in needed air. "What is it?"

"Sorcerers!"

He heard his warriors shout as they took to battle. He made to push himself up.

"No!" Nyra countered. "You are blind."

"I won't let them fight on their own!"

"Stop!" Nyra pushed him down. "Let _them_ do what you've trained them to. Only you can talk to Emrys. Stop him!"

Carwyn put all his effort into his connection with his guardian. _Merlin, stop!_ _She's tricking you! Stop!_

* * *

Merlin shook his head as Carwyn's voice sounded in his mind. "Carwyn," he whispered.

"Carwyn?"

"Your nephew," he spoke slowly.

"Arthur's heir. I know of him. I will be able to meet him."

"He's saying...I hear him..." Merlin blinked listlessly. He felt weak.

"What does he say?"

"That..." his mind muddled. "That..." He couldn't remember. He glanced down. Several more tendrils had appeared, curling around his arms and his legs, one even around his chest. He looked back at Morgana who was smiling.

"Soon now, Merlin, and we will be free."

The door to the room slammed opened and Merlin turned his head, but his vision had blurred.

Rankin stumbled into the chamber, gasping as if he'd run a long distance. "He's giving it to you!"

"How dare you interrupt!" Morgana snapped.

"You vowed to bring her to me."

Morgana raised her free hand. A blue tendril shot out to the last gateway. Merlin tried to focus, but the effort took too much energy.

Rankin stood in front of the gateway. It was finally time. Everything he had worked and planned for was coming true.


	24. Endgame

Rankin watched mist whirl at a fevered pace as a shadowy figure solidified. His eyes welled with tears as he beheld her again—young, beautiful, the sister he'd loved with everything he was.

"Eira," he breathed out. An invisible hand ruffled his hair.

"Rankin," the shade greeted, her eyes alight as they had always been when she saw him. "I've missed you."

Rankin sank to the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't save you. I should have done something."

Eira knelt to his level. "No, little brother. Do not blame yourself. Do not ever think you failed me."

Rankin held her gaze. "You were only trying to take care of me." She had been all he had after their parents died. She had raised him, protected him, provided for him.

"It was more than that," Eira said quietly. "You know how the Pendragons killed so many we loved."

Rankin nodded. "Those like me."

Eira's breath hitched in her throat. "I am so proud of you. From such a small ability...to this."

"I've worked very hard...for you."

"I know, and I could not be more pleased."

Merlin observed the reunion through a fog, listening more than seeing. Eira...Eira...Who was she? A fleeting memory passed through his mind. Had he...healed her?

"I will finish your cause, I promise," Rankin vowed. "With Emrys removed and Morgana in full strength, the queen of Camelot will have no defense against us. She will die for what she did to you."

Eira smiled broadly. "I will rejoice when I see it. Stay the course. You must do as you have sworn."

"I will."

"No matter the challenges or the suffering, do what you know you must."

"Yes. Always."

Eira...Eira...Merlin closed his eyes. Something...something he'd said...when Arthur was dying... _You know I was betrayed. The girl, Eira, cannot be trusted._ Merlin's eyelids fluttered open. Eira. She betrayed him; she manipulated Gwaine. He fought through his muddled mind. What did Rankin say? Gwen would die?

Merlin looked down at his magic leaving him through the tendrils, then up at Morgana. "Stop...him."

Morgana smiled, but seemed different somehow. Her eyes had gone...cold. "Why? He's done exactly as we planned."

Merlin didn't understand for a moment, then a panicked warning prickled his mind. "You...he..." The invisible hand ran through his hair again, only this time it yanked uncomfortably.

"You see, Emrys, I will win in the end. You couldn't stop your destiny, but I can stop mine. Your magic will belong to me, and with it I will achieve everything I ever desired."

 _I've been betrayed...again._ He pulled back on his magic, trying to stop the flow.

Morgana laughed wickedly. "It's too late. You're too weak. This is your end, Merlin. I exchange your life for mine."

* * *

The crystal chamber disappeared. Carwyn shook his head to clear it as vision came back to him. His warriors spun all around the room, fighting sorcerers in dark robes.

"Merlin's dying," Carwyn cried out over the sounds of battle. He pushed to a stand.

"You can see," Nyra said, standing along with him.

"I need to get to him!"

Nyra drew her sword. "Show me the way."

Carwyn pushed with all the magic he had, following the tug that told him where Merlin was. He pointed to an archway straight ahead. They plunged into the battle.

Carwyn's eyes flashed gold. A few of the attackers in front of them bounced through the air, but most didn't budge. Carwyn was shoved backwards, but Nyra pressed into him. Her own eyes glowed, sending Carwyn forward, slashing with his sword as he went. He wounded two sorcerers, one he thought seriously as the man collapsed.

"Poden onywe!" Carwyn tried to conjure a whirlwind, but felt like his mind crashed against solid stone. How... He glanced around the room. Three sorcerers were plastered along the far wall doing nothing but studying the battle. He pointed to them. "They're dampening our magic!"

Nyra followed his finger. Her eyes flamed. Droyn was near her, spinning to avoid a sorcerer's flaming hands. "Droyn!" The young warrior sidestepped to them. "I need your sword." Droyn tossed it into Nyra's left hand, continuing to magically duel with the sorcerer attacking him.

Nyra brandished the two swords. "For Emrys." She marched forwards. Carwyn stayed by her side, thrusting and parrying and speaking spells, hoping to press through the block here and there. They reached the other side. Nyra roared a battle cry and sprinted down the wall, swords flashing in torchlight as the three sorcerers found themselves under attack. Two turned to the threat; the third concentrated all the more on the battle.

One of the sorcerers sent a flame, but Nyra's eyes flashed gold. The flame rebounded and the sorcerers ducked. Nyra slashed with her sword, taking one of them in the cheek. He bellowed as the sword sliced down, breaking his jaw. He fell to the floor. Nyra kept going.

The second sorcerer shouted a spell and several torches wrenched from the wall, tumbling towards Carwyn. The prince held up his hand. "Abric!" It didn't work. He ducked, but one slammed into his shoulder and the flame brushed his cheek. He bit his teeth against the burn and stomped the torch out.

Nyra was twisting and turning, and Carwyn stared amazed as she avoided every torch sent her way. She rushed forward, catching the sorcerer in the stomach and chest. The woman gasped, spluttered, and slumped to her knees. Nyra shoved her foot in the woman's chest, tearing her swords out as the woman fell back.

The third sorcerer broke his hold on the battle, the threat to his life now imminent. He yelled loudly and a whirlwind appeared, gusting throughout the chamber and towards Nyra. Carwyn leaped in front of her and held up his hand. "Poden astynte!" The whirlwind became stationary and spun faster, electric energy flashing within it. The sorcerer stared up in surprise and tried to counter with his own spell, but it was too late. Lightning blossomed and struck him straight in the chest. He sagged to the ground.

Carwyn let the whirlwind dissipate and looked to the battle. His warriors, now free to use magic without hindrance, did so, spells firing all around the room. He felt Nyra grip his hand.

"Emrys!" she shouted.

He nodded once, glancing at a body on the altar whose chest was beginning to rise as they rushed to the archway.

* * *

Merlin couldn't lift his arms. Every fiber of his being strove to resist Morgana who continued to smile on him with contempt and triumph. He felt the sting of betrayal at the same time as overwhelming grief. For a moment he had believed he could recover the woman he'd esteemed so long ago, but before him was Morgana corrupted once again.

The invisible grip on Merlin's hair tightened; his head was wrenched back. Morgana leaned over him. "So loyal to Arthur, loyal to the very end. I must admit, Merlin, I admire you. You hid so very well and Arthur had your complete attention. Too bad everyone else came second."

Morgana grinned. "Your power...It's intoxicating. So much more than I have ever felt. Only a little more time now...Farewell, Emrys. Enjoy your afterlife." She sat back, eyes raised to the ceiling, reveling in her victory.

Across the way, Rankin still conversed with his sister. Merlin couldn't hear him anymore, his senses beginning to shut down. His vision faded. His crushed heart silently wailed.

* * *

Carwyn careened down a hall, Nyra's footfalls pounding on the floor behind him. He skidded to a halt when the tug pulled to his left. An outline on the wall indicated a door, but there was no handle. Carwyn pushed and shoved with his shoulder, but it didn't move.

Nyra arrived and shouted, "Aetie!" then "Tospringe!" Neither spell worked. "Are you sure he is here?" the Druid questioned.

"Yes!" Carwyn confirmed, though the tug had been dwindling by the moment.

"This is a dark place," Nyra ruminated. "A dark spell must open the way."

"Argh!" Carwyn bellowed and punched a fist into the door. He didn't know _any_ dark spells. Merlin had never taught him about dark magic.

"Emrys," Nyra said.

Carwyn recognized the familiar look when something had occurred to her. "Yes?"

"He might know the spell."

"Merlin doesn't study dark magic," Carwyn returned.

Nyra stared at him as if he were foolish.

"You think he has?"

"I think he would be naive if he had not at least paid attention to it."

Carwyn closed his eyes, pressing as hard as he could into the weakening tug. _Merlin! We're here! We can't get in the door. We need to get in. Tell us how!_

* * *

Merlin heard a whisper, not in the chamber, but in his mind. Carwyn again. He kept hearing the boy he loved. His taunting conscience. The voice called out insistently. _Merlin! Please! I am here. I'm behind the door. Can you help me get in?_

Merlin blinked and something in his mind awoke, albeit briefly. What if the voice _was_ Carwyn? What if he _was_ just outside the door? Merlin tried to think. He'd heard the spell to open the door over and over. What was it? _Hlyste pa...heafodwope paes feorhcynnes...ond aetyne._

* * *

Carwyn heard the spell as scarcely more than a whisper. He chanted it as Merlin sent it to him. "Hlyste pa...heafodwope paes feorhcynnes...ond aetyne." Nothing happened.

* * *

 _It didn't work...Merlin, can you hear me? It didn't work._

Merlin sighed. Why did Carwyn keep bothering him? All he wanted to do was sleep.

 _Merlin! Merlin!_

The prat. Why couldn't he just let him sleep?

 _Merlin!_

Alright, fine, the door! The spell probably only worked from his side. Drat. He'd have to say it so the boy would shut up.

Merlin sluggishly opened his mouth. "Hlyste pa...Hlyste pa..." _Too tired_ , he thought.

* * *

Carwyn's heart sank. He had heard Merlin ponder that the door could open from the other side, but the warlock had reached the end of his strength. "Merlin thinks the door opens from the inside, but he's too tired to speak the spell."

Nyra placed a firm hand on Carwyn's arm. "He needs your strength now."

 _I swear, Merlin! They will pay for what they have done to you!_ Carwyn squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating every bit of his magic on his connection with Merlin.

* * *

Merlin's eyes popped open as a surge of magic coursed through his veins. For a moment, he was lucid. Rankin was speaking to a shade to his left; Morgana was in front of him taking his power. And Carwyn was right outside the door to stop it all. A tremor shook his thin frame as he anticipated the pain he was about to endure. He drew in a long, deep breath and screamed as he never had before. "Hlyste pa heafodwope paes feorhcynnes ond aetyne!" He cried in agony, his wrists and ankles stabbing and throbbing.

The door cracked open, then was slammed into the wall. Carwyn and Nyra burst inside, swords drawn, eyes golden. Rankin was thrown back against the wall; Morgana shrieked and stood, the tendrils detaching from Merlin's body.

Rankin watched Eira fade back into the wall. He roared aloud, raising his hand. "Liget onywe!" An electric charge zinged from his hand. Nyra sprang in front of Carywn, holding out her own hand. "Astynte!" She redirected the charge and it hit the ceiling with a crack.

Morgana's eyes glowed, both hands outstretched. Tendrils shot forth, enveloping Carwyn and Nyra. Carwyn groaned as he felt magic ripped from him. Nyra doubled over.

Rankin laughed. Morgana's eyes gleamed. "Well, well. Arthur's heir. As brave and _stupid_ as his father."

"Do you have Emrys' magic?" Rankin asked desperately.

Morgana looked down at Merlin who grimaced in pain, hardly aware. "Almost all of it." She willed another tendril from her palm. It snaked towards Merlin.

"Ny...ra," Carwyn breathed out. The Druid turned her head, still bent over. Carwyn expected to see fear, but only determination lit her eyes. She trembled, reaching out a hand to his. She gripped it. He gasped. Her eyes had grown fiercely bright and he felt her magic augmenting his. He squeezed tightly, drawing power from her and combining it with his own. He threw his head back and screamed.

The tendrils collapsed. Morgana turned, startled. Rankin gaped. Nyra flung a sword at the sorcerer who was forced to dodge. Carwyn lurched towards Morgana. "Go back where you came from!"

"Never!" Morgana yelled, backing away.

Rankin's eyes darted between Carwyn and Nyra, who was stalking towards him with another sword. He threw out his hand. Fire flared towards the Druid. She spun out of the way. Rankin dashed through the door out of the corner of her eye. She ran after him.

"You had your chance," Carwyn admonished the shade. "You failed."

"You cannot harm me," Morgana taunted.

"I...can."

Both Carwyn and Morgana looked to the voice of the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth. Merlin gathered the last of his strength, concentrating all his hurt, anger, and pain into one tight ball of magic. "Gaste edhwierft aet paet heolstor!" He pitched over unconscious.

* * *

Rankin incanted a spell, throwing himself down the corridor in seconds. He turned the corner and kept on running until he reached Morgana's chamber. The sounds of battle met his ears, but he charged ahead, undaunted. He easily avoided fighting sorcerers, casting himself to the altar. He grabbed the hand of the body. It was warm. Its eyes were open and darting here and there.

"Morgana! Wake up! Rise!" They needed her _now_.

Nyra reached the archway. She spotted Rankin at Morgana's side. She stalked forwards.

* * *

Morgana screeched as her form began to streak back to her gateway. The crystal chamber splintered and the whole room quaked. Carwyn leaped instinctively towards Merlin, covering him as crystal shattered. Shards shot across the room in all directions. Carwyn held up his hand, feeling crystal impacts pinging against his conjured shield.

* * *

To Rankin's horror, Morgana's eyes began to still and her skin to lose its color. _No, no_. "No!" It couldn't have come to this. He had promised his sister justice for her soul. The chamber began to shake and rumble. Everyone glanced above as stone cracked and bits of it tumbled down.

Rankin knew Morgana had been defeated. He gripped the body's shoulders. "Give me anything you have! Please! It's our only hope now!"

Morgana's eyes met his.

* * *

Carwyn lowered the shield. Morgana's shade resisted for a few more seconds, then blue magic exploded from her form as she met the gateway. It blasted through the room, knocking Carwyn across broken crystal and smashing him into a wall.

* * *

Nyra reached Rankin right as the energy from Morgana's corpse erupted. She watched, horrified, as it entered Rankin who screeched hoarsely at the overwhelming power. He turned to her, his eyes brilliant yellow.

* * *

The magic buffeted Merlin's still form, rocking him back and forth as it returned to its source. Carwyn crawled towards his guardian, ignoring the tiny shards embedding themselves in his arms. He gripped Merlin's neck and gasped back a sob when he felt a pulse. He lay his head on Merlin's chest and unashamedly wept.

* * *

Rankin raised outstretched arms. "Tofiele!" The ceiling gave way, heavy stone jettisoning to the floor as the chamber collapsed. Nyra tossed a falling stone aside just in time to avoid being hit. Others weren't so lucky. Rankin smiled at the screams. Whether his sorcerers or theirs, he didn't care. He basked in the hot power burning through him.

He flung his hands out to his sides. His unspoken spell flattened anyone standing, including Nyra. She cried out and rolled over to see a stone plummeting towards her. She clenched her teeth when it landed on her leg. Rankin suddenly wobbled and groaned, grasping his chest. He pushed forward, staggering to the tunnels and the exit. Nyra held out a hand and tried to speak a spell as Rankin passed her, but another stone tumbled her direction. She shielded her head with her hands and screamed.


	25. Home

Carwyn lifted his head from Merlin's still form. He took in the state of his guardian. His face was bruised on both sides. Dried blood streaked in various places. Even unconscious he looked worn and defeated. Carwyn glared at the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He held out a hand to them. "Tospringe." Nothing happened. "Aliese." Nothing.

Carwyn put a weary had to his forehead. What if he needed some unknown dark spell like the door? Carwyn scowled. Merlin couldn't remain like this any longer. He sat up on his knees, closed his eyes, and held out both his hands. "Unspanne pas mann." Still nothing. Carwyn thought back to all the spells Merlin had taught him. He remembered another time Merlin had been captured and chained. He'd used a spell then that hadn't worked, but maybe... "Abricap benda."

Carwyn heard several clinks. He opened his eyes to see the cuffs laying unlocked next to Merlin. Then he gasped and his eyes brimmed with tears once more. He reached down to one of Merlin's wrists. A deep red burn encircled it. Carwyn glanced at his other wrist and his ankles. They were the same. How had this happened?

Fury flared in Carwyn's chest. He uttered a spell to increase his strength, slid his arms under Merlin, and picked him up, holding him close to his chest. Broken crystal crunched under his feet as he moved into the hall. He paused as he exited and glanced down at Merlin once more. "You will never be taken from me again," he swore to the unconscious warlock.

He retreated back down the hall, hoping he didn't meet any opposition. He made it back to the large chamber and stared wide eyed when he entered. Stone littered the floor, several pieces large enough to cause death. His warriors! Reynfrey and Pello dug through rubble on the far side of the room. Moeris sat against a wall to his right, cradling his right arm. Where were the others?

Carwyn scanned the room. The corpse on the altar was lifeless. The largest stone of all had crushed it; limp appendages draped over the altar's edges. He breathed a sigh of relief. Morgana had been stopped. They wouldn't see her back from the dead to threaten Camelot once more. Carwyn's relief turned to shock when his eye caught a flash of copper at the right side of the altar. "Nyra," he breathed out. "No."

He lowered Merlin to the ground as gently and quickly as he could and rushed over to the altar. Blood dripped from a wound on Nyra's forehead, forming a puddle on the floor. Her left arm and right leg were pinned under stone. Her eyes were wide open in shock. Carwyn's eyes lit up gold and the stones rolled away. "Reynfrey!"

Carwyn heard the warrior approach over broken stone. "Sire?"

"Nyra," Carwyn said.

Reynfrey knelt down next to the Druid. He lay a hand on her arm

"Can you heal her?"

"I'll do what I can." He began to speak several spells, moving his hands over Nyra's body.

"My lord?"

Carwyn looked over as Pello addressed him. "Yes?"

Pello rubbed his hands together nervously.

"Well?" Carwyn asked impatiently.

"It's Alec."

The sorrow in Pello's eyes cut Carwyn to the quick. "Where is he?"

Pello pointed where he and Reynfrey had been digging. Carwyn strode over to the wall. His heart stopped. The noble warrior with the humorous wit lay on his side, eyes closed. His form had been crushed from the waist down. Carwyn knelt beside him, placing a shaking hand to his neck. No pulse. He had lost a warrior. His anger burst, and he threw back his head and screamed at the ceiling. A hand gripped his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Pello spoke, his voice cracking through tears.

Carwyn looked behind at the room. "Droyn? Phipp?"

"They chased after someone back the way we came."

Carwyn rose unsteadily, making his way to Reynfrey who now leaned over Merlin. Nyra's eyes were closed, but her forehead wasn't bleeding anymore. The blood had been replaced by a scar. He sank down next to her. "Is she..."

"Her bones are broken," Reynfrey commented, not turning from Merlin. "I've mended them as much as I could, but they'll need to be splinted."

Carwyn ran a hand over Nyra's forehead. If he'd lost her...His heart leaped to his throat. He couldn't _ever_ lose her.

Reynfrey blew out a frustrated breath.

"What is it?" Pello asked.

"These wounds on Merlin's wrists and ankles. They won't respond to me. How were these made?"

Carwyn looked over his shoulder. "He was chained to manacles."

Reynfrey rested a hand on his chin. "Dark magic, perhaps. I don't know what to do for him."

"Is he alright except for them?"

"He's bruised quite a bit, though those are healing. Other parts of him were burned. They were superficial and I already healed them. I don't understand why he's unconscious."

"He used the last of his strength to send Morgana back," Carwyn explained.

"So Merlin saved Camelot," Pello said in awe. "Again."

"Yes." Despite all that Merlin had endured, he had done what they couldn't, and Camelot's Golden Age was spared. _We owe you, Merlin. We owe you debts we can never repay._

Footsteps pounded to their left. Carwyn jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. Droyn and Phipp emerged from the exit corridor, breathing heavily. Carwyn sheathed his sword and ran to them, clasping each by a shoulder. "You're alright."

"We...followed that...sorcerer who...took Morgana's power," Droyn reported.

Carwyn dropped his hands. "Took her power?"

Phipp nodded. "He...ran in...during the battle. Then...after the magic went into him," Phipp looked up, "he collapsed the ceiling."

It must have been the sorcerer. "Did you kill him?" Carwyn asked vehemently.

Droyn's face fell. "We lost him."

"He entered a network of tunnels," Phipp explained. "We tried to follow but..." He broke off, clearly upset with himself.

Carwyn ground his jaw and bit back angry words. It wasn't their fault. They had done their best. But this sorcerer with Morgana's power...He glanced at the unconscious Merlin. Or maybe even some of Merlin's power. Camelot wouldn't be safe until the sorcerer was dead.

"Alec's dead," came Pello's quiet voice.

"What?" Droyn exclaimed.

Pello pointed. Phipp moved over to the body, but Droyn noticed Moeris against the wall and sprinted to him, giving him a hand and helping him stand.

Carwyn's eyes burned angrily. No one would ever come here again. "We need to get out of this wretched place," he declared, lifting Nyra into his arms. "Bring Alec. Reynfrey..."

"I've got Merlin."

"Let's go."

* * *

The climb up to the surface was slow going with Moeris leaning against Phipp, Droyn managing Alec's body, Reynfrey hefting Merlin, and Carwyn carrying Nyra. Pello went ahead, light streaming from both his hands. The most difficult part to navigate was the slim entrance. They had to move single file and use magic to levitate those who were unconscious or, in Alec's case, asleep for all time.

When they squeezed through the entrance into glorious light, Carwyn directed them to lay down their burdens. He stared at Merlin, whose haggard face bore the marks of the evil he'd been through. At Nyra, such a spitfire, asleep under Reynfrey's healing spell, a permanent scar marking her bravery. And at Alec, crushed to death. He turned around to confront the entrance. The sorcerer hid somewhere inside.

Carwyn looked back at those standing. "We must destroy this place. We bring it down. Every bit of it. Together." He knelt to the ground, pressing his palms into the dirt. His warriors followed his lead. "Eordbeofung abreode," he chanted, meeting each eye.

He took a deep breath and shouted the spell loudly along with his warriors. A deep rumbling shook the earth beneath their feet. The rock around the entrance gave way, tumbling in on itself, sealing the darkness below, and Carwyn hoped destroying the sorcerer in the process.

"My lord, your arms and your cheek must be tended," Reynfrey advised as he stood.

Carwyn glanced at him. In all his concern, he'd forgotten himself. At the reminder, the sting of the shards of crystal embedded in his arms rose to his awareness. He flinched and laid a hand to his cheek, also recalling the burn from the torch. He looked at Nyra and Moeris. "See to them first."

"My lord..."

"They are in more need than I."

"Yes, sire. At least remove what you can while I tend to the others."

Carwyn nodded. Reynfrey began to direct Phipp, Pello, and Droyn regarding the splints he would need. Carwyn moved over to Merlin, sitting next to him to stay out of the way while Reynfrey worked. He rolled up his sleeves and grit his teeth, using his fingernails to pull on a shard. He hissed. They hurt worse when messed with.

Little by little a small pile of broken crystal grew beside Carwyn. He stopped when he removed a larger piece, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Such evil. He looked down at Merlin, sudden worry for his guardian overwhelming him. He knelt beside Merlin, untying the brigandine the warlock hated to wear. He worked his arms out of it and cast it aside. He removed the arming coat as well. The shirt underneath was stiff with sweat.

"Merlin," Carwyn whispered. He lay a hand on his head. The physical injuries could be cured, but from what he had seen the worst wounds had been gouged in Merlin's mind. A memory came back to him, one that had mostly faded over time.

Eleven years ago, Merlin had rescued him from the same sorcerer. The warlock had entered into his mind to find him. He had been lucky not to remember much of the event, but one feeling had never left him—Merlin's arms crushing him into his chest as he brought him back. He had felt all the love, loyalty, and sacrifice of his guardian in that moment.

"I'll be here, Merlin," Carwyn vowed. "However long it takes, we'll heal everything done to you _together_."

* * *

When Reynfrey finished tending injuries, Pello revealed two stretchers he'd assembled from tree branches that could be hitched to horses. Carwyn shook his head in amazement. Pello was certainly an able warrior, but most of the time he appeared naive; then he'd do things like this, and challenge everything people thought about him.

They reverently lay Alec's body in one stretcher, swathed in his travel blanket. Nyra was laid in the other, still asleep from Reynfrey's spell. They lay Merlin over his horse secured with rope so he wouldn't fall. Moeris said he could ride one handed.

They rode until evening, speaking little. Events had left them exhausted and shell shocked. They had accomplished what they meant to and all rejoiced their warlock had been recovered, but they'd lost one of their own to do it. When they stopped at night to camp, Carwyn looked into the blazing fire and spoke firmly. "This was a victory," he declared. His warriors stopped eating to listen to him. "We fought dark magic and we won. Don't ever forget that."

The night deepened. Carwyn took the first watch as always, perched between Merlin and Nyra, both still asleep. Reynfrey had said Nyra should wake soon. He had no idea about Merlin. They had to simply wait and see.

A soft groan drew Carwyn's attention around midnight. Nyra stirred and moved her left arm.

"Nyra?" Carwyn asked.

"Unh...What?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Don't move your left arm or right leg. They're splinted."

"What?" Her eyelids rose. She bent her neck to look down, then moaned and lay back.

"Are you in pain? I can wake Reynfrey."

"It's...alright...Where are we?"

"Traveling back to Camelot."

Nyra's eyes widened. "Emrys!" She tried to sit up, but Carwyn pressed her back down.

"He's here. He's alive."

She relaxed in relief. "The sorcerer?"

"I assume dead," Carwyn spoke bitterly.

"Assume?" Her brow creased.

"We collapsed the entire cavern. If he survived then he's even stronger than we know."

"He took Morgana's magic!"

"I know. But that couldn't save him."

Nyra peered at him skeptically for a moment, then sighed. "At least we have Emrys."

"Yes." Carwyn's face fell.

"What is wrong?"

Carwyn firmed his jaw, then looked her straight in the eye. "We lost Alec."

"Alec is dead?"

Carwyn nodded.

Nyra's eyes filled with tears and she quickly raised her right hand to wipe at them. "I'm sorry, my lord." She looked away.

"It's not wrong to cry for him," Carwyn said, his throat tightening.

"I know." She kept her face turned away.

"Nyra..." Carwyn reached out to touch her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist and rolled back, alarmed.

"You're wounded."

Reynfrey had bandaged his arms after applying a salve. Carwyn held up both arms. "It's not bad. The crystal prison broke into pieces and some ended up in my arms. Not many. My arming coat caught most of them. I care more about how _you_ feel."

"Fine."

Carwyn stared, unbelieving.

Nyra sighed. "Not fine. It does hurt, but it's manageable. How are the others?"

"Moeris also broke an arm. The rest are relatively unhurt. Superficial wounds here and there, but nothing more."

"Emrys?"

"He's alive, but...he hasn't woken."

Nyra nodded thoughtfully. "Morgana took so much from him."

"When she disappeared, his magic came back to him," Carwyn assured. "But with all he's been through...Well, he needs all the rest he can get."

"Indeed."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

Carwyn rose, walking to his pack to pick out some dried berries. He also knelt down to rummage in a cooking pot. He returned to Nyra and helped her sit up, setting a bowl in her lap.

"The meat's rabbit," Carwyn said as he crossed his legs on his own pallet. "Pello did his best."

Nyra chewed some. "It's..bland."

"But we won't starve."

Nyra tucked into the sparse meal. Carwyn kept staring at her, and finally she stopped eating and stared back. "What is it?"

Carwyn drew in a long breath. "When I saw Alec...and then you, lying there wounded...I...I realized I can't ever lose you."

Nyra popped a berry into her mouth. "I'm just one warrior."

"You're more than that."

Nyra laughed sadly. "Maybe I'm more like two."

"I didn't mean that," Carwyn said, his voice soft. "I meant you're more than a warrior to me."

Nyra lowered her gaze and swallowed. She set her bowl beside her and gazed at the fire.

Carwyn felt chagrined. Why did he insist on doing things that pushed her away? "I...shouldn't have said that."

Nyra didn't look at him, but responded. "You should say whatever you like."

Carwyn shook his head ruefully. "Because I'm royalty. That doesn't mean it's alright for me to go around acting like a prat." _I sound like Merlin._

"You should never act like a prat," Nyra agreed. He heard the smile in her voice. "But, you should say what you like because...you shouldn't ignore your heart."

Carwyn's heart thumped against his ribs. What did she mean by that? "Are you ignoring your heart?" he asked tentatively.

Nyra turned slowly. "I'm tired."

Carwyn's heart sank. He held out his hand to her and she took it. He helped her lay back down, but let his hand linger for a moment holding hers. He reluctantly let go when she closed her eyes.

* * *

Two more days of travel passed. When they awoke the second morning, Nyra insisted she could ride. Carwyn tried to argue with her, but finally gave up and let her sit awkwardly sidesaddle. He fumed at her stubbornness, yet secretly admired it. She had more stamina than he had seen in anyone save perhaps his mother and Merlin.

Merlin hadn't awoken. Carwyn felt a bit of trepidation that he might never wake, but his pulse continued to be strong. He could only hope the rest Merlin was getting would bring him back to them.

By evening, Carwyn paused on a hill, beholding the city of his birth. He loved it more than anywhere else on earth. "Camelot," he breathed out. Nyra had been sticking to him like a guard dog all day, and he caught her smiling slightly at him.

"You love Camelot as much as I love the simple tents of my people."

Carwyn recalled the peace of the Druids, a peace he had envied, but as he looked on the castle that was home, he realized he loved it more. He knew all its crooks and crannies, its people, both noble and common. He wouldn't have given it up for the world.

His expression clouded and he looked back at the corpse bound in a blanket.

"You have to announce his death," Nyra spoke quietly.

Carwyn nodded. Announce it and write a letter to his family who lived outside the capital.

Nyra reached out a hand to Carwyn's arm. "I'm sorry you have to do this."

Carwyn smiled gratefully to her. "I don't like it, but I willingly take it on. I'm sure my father did this many times." He clutched his horse's reins, chirruping. The horse jogged towards home.

* * *

As they trotted down busy streets, Carwyn's subjects stopped to watch them go by. Most let them pass in silence, then muttered once they moved on. But several exclaimed, "Prince Carwyn!" and ran up to him, grasping his hand and welcoming him back. They must have realized something had been wrong; he read relief in their faces. He wondered at being so loved. He had done nothing to deserve it. Their loyalty was built on the actions of his predecessors—his mother, father, and Merlin.

When they reached the courtyard, word must have traveled faster then their horses because his mother was tearing down the steps to meet them, queenly decorum forgotten. Leon and Percival appeared on the top step.

Carwyn dismounted only to be shoved back against his horse as his mother pressed into him, her arms around his waist. "My heart! Oh, my heart!"

Carwyn smiled at her term of endearment. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and set his chin on top of her head. "Mother." He closed his eyes, breathing in the light perfume he'd known since a child.

His mother pulled back and looked into his eyes. "After Percival returned with the knights...I feared for your life." She let him go and lifted one of his bandaged arms.

"I'm alright," Carwyn reassured her. "The injuries are minor."

"Merlin?" Her eyes traveled to the unconscious warlock strapped to his horse. Leon and Percival were already next to it, untying him.

"He's alive."

Her eyes welled with tears.

"But Alec was killed."

She glanced at the body shaped blanket.

"Moeris and Nyra were wounded, but they'll mend."

She scanned the other warriors, then grasped Carwyn's hand. "Come. Rest and then I want to hear everything that happened."

* * *

Gwen insisted Carwyn wash, be re-bandaged, and eat before he told her anything. Servants attended his warriors as well. Another physician had been called to the castle to fill in during Grimald's absence. Reynfrey conferred with him as they tended to wounds.

Carwyn retreated to his mother's room, sitting before the fireplace and sighing at the familiarity that was as good for his heart as any medicine. As he related their story, his mother reacted with horror and sadness. They had lost four knights, Grimald, and Alec, not to mention a whole town. And even though Carwyn knew she had seen deaths aplenty during her lifetime, she reacted as if these were the first.

When he finished, she stood and paced back and forth at the end of her bed.

"What of the council members?" Carwyn asked, curious about the outcome of their plan to shadow them and vowing execution to any who had betrayed them.

Gwen shook her head. "None of them met with anyone suspicious. They didn't betray you."

Carwyn put a knuckle to his lips. "I've thought for some time this sorcerer had a way to see us using magic."

"You're certain he's dead?" Gwen asked.

"Without his body, I can't be _certain_ , but we collapsed the entire cavern. If he was inside, he doesn't live."

A light knock sounded on the door.

"Yes?" Gwen called out.

The door cracked open and Leon peeked in. "My queen, the bier is prepared."

Gwen nodded. Leon pulled back, shutting the door. Gwen looked to Carwyn, such deep empathy in her gaze. He rose from his seat and nodded to her.

* * *

Carwyn watched the flames lick Alec's corpse. He had seen pyres aplenty for various nobles and knights, but this was the first lost under his command. Beholding it now, he hated it. The body charred and cracked. This was supposed to be a noble way to honor the dead, but it was incongruent with the warrior whose eyes had reflected boldness and perseverance, whose humor had been so catching.

When the ceremony ended, the people dispersed. His mother put a sympathetic hand on his arm, then turned back to the castle. Carwyn moved over to his warriors, laying his hands on their shoulders to comfort them. Nyra had insisted on coming, though she acquiesced to sitting in a chair. She looked up at him when he stepped over to her. He reached down to lift her.

"You don't need to," she said.

"You can barely walk," Carwyn argued.

"I can do it."

"I order you to let me help you," Carwyn commanded gruffly.

Nyra scowled but stopped resisting. He lifted her and carried her up the stairs and through several halls to her room, a tiny one compared to his in a section of the castle reserved for knights without families. Carwyn sat her on the bed. He stepped back.

"Now, what can I do for you?"

"I can see to myself."

"I can stay a while if you need me."

"Pello offered to aid me as needed."

Carwyn moved to the doorway. "Good-night, then."

"Good-night."

Carwyn took one step out the door, then tarried. "Thank you for all you did out there." He looked over his shoulder at Nyra.

She nodded to him.

"You know..." He'd had two days to ruminate over her hesitancy. "I don't just care about you because of your destiny...You make me a better man in every way." He slipped out the door before he saw her reaction, unwilling to be rejected once more.

* * *

Carwyn opened the door to Merlin's room. He struggled awkwardly inside, managing an unwieldy cot. "Mother."

Gwen stood at Merlin's bedside. She turned to him and smiled. "I should have known you'd do this."

Carwyn smiled back. He dragged the cot across the room and set it up next to the bed. He walked over to his mother. She slid an arm around his waist and he around her shoulders. They both looked on the warlock asleep, worn, wounded.

"I've been thinking about the past," Gwen said quietly. "When I first met him, I thought he was attractive."

Carwyn chuckled. "You did?"

Gwen nodded. "And we were of the same status. I thought he might take to me."

"Why did you change your mind?"

"I had always seen the potential in your father to be a good and wise man. When Merlin became his manservant that part of him shone brightly for the first time. Merlin made him a good man."

Carwyn thought back to what he'd said to Nyra. _She does the same to me._ "Well," he spoke aloud, "I'm glad Merlin changed my father or I wouldn't be here."

Gwen tightened her grip on his waist. "Yes."

 _Not to mention he saved me when I was born._ "I didn't tell you something."

Gwen looked up at him. "What?"

"When Merlin was imprisoned, I connected with him. I could see what he saw."

"You saw what happened to him?"

Carwyn's eyes darkened. "The sorcerer didn't just bring back Morgana. He brought back others and all of them kept telling Merlin he had done terrible things, that his actions betrayed them and magic wielders, and that he was responsible for my father's death."

Gwen stared in disbelief. "Merlin has always been loyal. Always good in heart. Your father didn't die because of him."

"But...he hasn't been perfect."

"No, but..."

"I agree, mother. We owe Merlin. I'm only telling you this because his mind is more broken than his body. I fear what he'll be when he wakes."

Tears sparkled in Gwen's eyes. Carwyn turned her and held her by the shoulders. "I'll tell you more tomorrow. We must rest and be strong for Merlin."

"Yes. Of course." Gwen pushed herself up on her toes and kissed Carwyn's cheek.

After his mother departed, Carwyn changed out of his clothes and into his nightshirt. He settled down on the cot, pulling the blanket taut. He closed his eyes, pushing his magic towards the still form on the bed, hoping that even in his state, Merlin might hear him.

 _Merlin, I'm here. I'm not leaving you alone. And we_ will _heal you. I promise._


	26. Broken

Merlin floated in a sea of darkness, roiling back and forth. Accusations echoed across the watery wasteland. Nothing he did could stop them. He helplessly listened as they spoke who he was: Merlin the Deceiver. Merlin the Poisoner. Merlin the Murderer. He didn't _want_ to be any of those things. Oh, how he wanted to change the truth, but there it was, murmuring, shouting, sometimes screaming.

Yet every so often, the waves almost stilled and other voices drifted towards him across a long distance. They were faint, but familiar, and he wanted to go to them. Then the accusing voices would drown them out, and he'd flail as always, unable to withstand their truth.

* * *

Carwyn finished talking and observed his mother. Gwen looked from him to Merlin's bed where the warlock lay unconscious. "Why do you think the sorcerer did this to him?"

Carwyn tapped his clasped hands against his lips. He'd just related what he had seen of Merlin's captivity from his perspective. "I didn't see everything. I seemed to connect to Merlin whenever he was most in danger or distress. And when Morgana started taking his magic, the vision was unclear. But I can guess."

Gwen looked back at him.

"I think perhaps part of it was revenge, but the ultimate goal was to bring back Morgana. We found the leadership of the cult and they obviously wanted the object of their worship to return. They made him weak enough that he'd give her his magic."

A flash of anger crossed Gwen's face. "Merlin didn't deserve this."

Carwyn bowed his head.

"You know he didn't," Gwen said, her tone perturbed at his action.

Carwyn glanced up. "He didn't deserve it, but...he did do some of the things they said, didn't he?"

Gwen's expression grew soft once more. "You've had the good fortune to grow up in an age of peace."

Carwyn nodded thoughtfully. Yes. He stood on the backs of those who went before him. He glanced over at Merlin. His mother had pulled a chair next to the cot, visiting as she had the last three days. He hadn't yet told her _all_ he had seen during Merlin's captivity. _Maybe for the same reason she hasn't told me so much about her past_ , he ruminated. _Maybe some things are best left unsaid._ But he did know them. He couldn't just forget them.

"I know Morgana was my Aunt."

Gwen didn't answer for a moment, then said, "That's true."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Talking about Morgana is...difficult for me," Gwen said, looking down and smoothing out her dress. "She was a friend for such a long time. To see her become eaten up by hate..." She sighed and looked over at him. "She did horrible things to me, your father, and Merlin. Camelot. And to tell you she is related to you..."

"It doesn't help anything," Carwyn whispered.

"Exactly."

Carwyn stared at his hands for a moment, twisting them quietly.

"I think," Gwen said slowly, "there must be things _you_ haven't told me about what you saw."

Carwyn squeezed his hands together and looked up at her. "I think some things are best left to discuss with Merlin."

Gwen nodded, then sighed. "The truth is, so much happened back then, and much of it is sad or evil or worse. We don't tell you because why foist our pains and burdens on you? You don't need to carry what we do."

Carwyn hadn't thought that Merlin might have kept his secrets to spare him. "It's just...when I heard those things, I didn't know how to reconcile them with what I know about him."

Gwen smiled. "You don't know he once tried to kill your father."

"Merlin tried to kill my father?" Carwyn asked incredulously.

Gwen nodded, smiling broadly. "We're lucky Merlin isn't good at being an assassin."

"You think it's funny?"

"Now. At the time, it wasn't. He'd been captured by Morgana and an evil creature used on him, a fomorroh, a beast with many snakelike heads. She implanted a head in his neck and it made him try to kill Arthur."

Carwyn stared, then shook his head slowly. "There's so much I don't know."

"Whatever Merlin has done, he's done it because he felt he had no other choice. He's not someone who spends his time planning to hurt and kill. It took Morgana enchanting him to even make him try, and then he was terrible at it."

Carwyn rubbed a thoughtful knuckle on his lips.

Gwen turned her attention back to the warlock they loved. "When he came back to Camelot after your father's death, he told me he was a sorcerer. He looked...scared. Even through all that grief, he was terrified to reveal what he'd hidden for so long, but I'd already guessed the truth and I didn't care." Her eyes had taken on a faraway look. "When I think about Merlin, I have nothing but gratefulness in my heart. He gave up so much for his friends, for _me_. He was there in my darkest hours. He took care of me. So when he told me, I knew he had only ever used magic for our good."

Gwen stood. She strode over to the bed and reached down to Merlin's hand laying outside the sheets. She stroked it gently. "He's a good man," she whispered. "And friend. We can't ever let him forget that, no matter what choices he made that he hates."

She turned and Carwyn saw a sheen in her eyes. "I need to go. Duties. But I've made sure you have none."

"Thank you," Carwyn said. Gwen ruffled his hair as she passed, leaving him in quiet contemplation.

The truth was, everyone loved Merlin. Well, everyone in the castle. He wished Merlin were awake and could see all the people who kept coming by to inquire concerning his health. The magic warriors showed up multiple times a day as did the knights, especially Leon and Percival. Even servants asked after him because being of high status in the court hadn't changed Merlin one bit. He remained kind and compassionate to anyone.

Carwyn smiled softly at his guardian, recalling the times they'd spent gallivanting all over the Camelot countryside. He'd learned more than magic. He'd learned to be a person of conscience. "You've made me who I am." His mother was right. Whatever Merlin's past, he wasn't one to do things to hurt others without good reason.

Carwyn picked up a book he'd set down when his mother entered and lay down in the cot, holding it up to read, but his mind was too troubled. Merlin's state weighed heavily and Alec's recent death but also...Nyra. Nyra had come to see Merlin everyday, but always when he wasn't around. At times, his mother or Percival or Leon watched over Merlin, insisting Carwyn get a break and they fulfill their own loyalty to their friend.

Carwyn contemplated the ceiling. He'd tried to tell himself Nyra would never see him as anything but her superior, someone to protect and follow, but never love. Yet his heart kept aching every time he thought about her. He'd had flings here and there with girls, infatuations that didn't last, but something was different about Nyra. He felt he needed her by his side, not just now, but forever.

Carwyn dropped the book to the side of the cot and rolled over. Merlin was the one he always talked to about stuff like this. He knew his mother was always willing to listen, but, well, she just wouldn't understand like Merlin would. _Please wake up. I need my Merlin back._

* * *

Merlin startled. A glow had appeared across the sea, a misty light stretching thin fingers his direction. The voices picked up, speaking over each other as if desperate to keep him close. Yet the gleam shined on, growing brighter by the moment. Merlin felt blessed warmth, but then a cold voice shouted at him, reminding him he had committed crimes he could never wash away. The light surrounded him, now feeling more like a burn than a delight. His eyes popped open.

A deep ache blossomed through the entire length of Merlin's body. His wrists and ankles stabbed. He was back in darkness. _The light_ _—_ _I imagined it._ He moaned softly. _No more, please, no more._

"Merlin?"

Merlin started at the voice, his eyes darting to a figure leaning over him. He pushed backwards, afraid. Gwen? Why had she come? What would she charge him with? His thoughts fled back to memory. Her exile. Of course. He hadn't stopped Arthur from sending her away. He hadn't made Arthur bring her back. He had failed her like everyone else.

Merlin closed his eyes and stiffened, waiting for her to snidely rail at him, waiting for the pain she must wish to inflict on him for his betrayal.

"Merlin. It's Gwen."

 _I know. Just get this over with. Please._

He felt a hand on his arm. He flinched at her touch. He began to shake unwillingly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Merlin!"

Now both her hands were on his shoulders and his tremors worsened.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Merlin! You're safe!"

But he knew it was a lie. He fought back, pushing at the hands that pretended to be so loving. If he waited too long they'd start to burn him.

"Mother!"

Merlin's heart jolted. Carwyn? Not Carwyn, too. He had tried to ever love the boy, never to hurt him in any way. What had he done? He didn't remember. He felt his arms and legs jerking rapidly.

"Merlin! Stop!"

Pain. It was coming. Soon. And the voices. They'd tell him the truth once more.

He felt another pair of hands on the sides of his head. He tried to pull away, but they were too strong. He waited for an explosion of pain, but felt instead that he was falling, down, down...and then there was nothing but silence.

* * *

"He's healing well," Reynfrey said as he rebandaged Merlin's left wrist. "I wish my magic wasn't useless against this, but the salve is working."

Carwyn stared sleepily from the chair he occupied. "Will they always be there?"

Reynfrey lay Merlin's arm gently back on the bed. "I wish I could say 'no,' but I don't see how they won't leave scars." He looked to his prince. "I'm sorry."

Carwyn bit his lip. Merlin would be forever reminded of that awful place.

Reynfrey spoke a couple spells to sustain Merlin's body since he hadn't eaten or drunk in days. He stood and approached Carwyn. "Sire?"

"Yes?"

"We all...want to know how you are."

"As well as I can be."

Reynfrey fiddled with his medical bag slung over his shoulder. "The others wanted me to tell you we don't blame you for Alec. We'd all have died for Merlin if we had to."

Carwyn smiled grimly. "Tell them I know that and thank you."

"I will." Reynfrey laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "There's someone who has come to see Merlin."

"Who?"

"Nyra."

Carwyn's stomach flipped.

"She wanted to know if it was alright. She seemed to need your consent." Reynfrey spoke as if he suspected more, but didn't add anything.

"She's free to come in," Carwyn said, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

"I'll tell her." Reynfrey moved to the door. He left it ajar when he stepped outside.

Carwyn heard low voices. He steeled himself for Nyra's appearance. His heart stuttered when she walked in, clothed in her simple green dress with blue outer garment. Her hair was like always—a natural braided crown. Her left arm was still in a sling. She walked on her left leg, but held a walking stick in her hand to aid her. He wondered how much of a fight she'd given Reynfrey when he insisted she use it.

"My lord," Nyra greeted, bowing her head.

"Please come in," Carwyn said quietly.

Nyra raised her head, looking at him briefly, then shuffled to the bed. She leaned on her walking stick. "Has he awoken?"

"Last night," Carwyn reported. "But he wasn't coherent." He didn't say Merlin had appeared terrified and he'd had to invoke a spell to put him back to sleep.

Nyra glanced at the cot. "You've been so faithful to him, staying here day and night."

Carwyn looked down at the floor, a story rising within him, compelling him to tell her intimate things about his life. "Once when I was sick, my mother was occupied with matters of state. Merlin sat by my bedside, fed me, lay next to me when my fever was great. I slept here and there, but every time I opened my eyes, he was there. He wouldn't leave my side."

"He cares so deeply for you," Nyra said. "And you for him."

"Yes," Carwyn whispered.

Nyra hobbled up to the head of the bed. She clutched the walking stick under her arm and lay her hand on Merlin's forehead. "He is...resting," she spoke in a hushed voice. "But there is turmoil. Fear. Shame. Guilt."

Carwyn sat up straighter in his chair. "You _feel_ that?"

Nyra nodded slowly. "I don't tell many about this ability."

"Can you read thoughts?" he asked, suddenly worried everything he'd ever thought about her had been an open book.

"No," Nyra replied. "Just emotions. But they must be strong. It's an advantage in battle. I know when a soldier's courage is simply bravado or when it falters. That is often a good time to attack."

"Why didn't you tell us this?" If he had known, he could have planned for her ability whenever they fought.

Nyra looked at him, her eyes tense. "How would people feel if they knew I could manipulate them at their weakest points? I am careful with this. I don't ever mean to misuse it." She lowered her gaze.

Realization hit Carwyn. _She's afraid to manipulate my care._ Carwyn felt like an idiot. She must have sensed the depth of his feelings for her. She drew back not only because she thought he might love her because of her destiny, but because she didn't want him to feel she'd manipulated him into it.

Carwyn opened his mouth to declare he had never been manipulated, but Nyra spoke quickly on.

"The warriors are restless. I wanted to ask your permission to train them."

Oh. So this was the real reason she had come when he was with Merlin. Simply to ask him for this. "You're still on the mend."

Nyra chuckled. "I don't need to move much."

Carwyn laughed as well. No, not with her magic skill. "You needn't ask my permission. Do whatever you see fit with them. They need it." Especially after Alec.

"Thank you, my lord."

Nyra moved back towards the door. Carwyn wanted nothing better than to jump up and stop her, ask her to sit awhile, but he held his tongue. It wasn't what she wanted, and he wasn't going to force her against her will.

* * *

Merlin basked in the warm light. He had fallen into it and remained. Still, a tight icy ball in the center of his body pulsed with truth. He kept trying to ignore it, but it pounded out his guilt.

The warmth grew hotter, then cooler. A breeze blew around him, then constricted, whirling. He felt himself lifted up, up, up. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked. Darkness again, but this time he turned his head side to side to take in his surroundings.

 _It's...familiar._ Was that a good or bad thing? He swallowed and felt suddenly parched. His stomach clenched. There was a light nearby. He focused on it. It was small, a tiny flame. He heard a rustling to his left. Sudden fear gripped him. He didn't dare look. Who was it this time?

"Please," he begged aloud. "Please." His voice was hoarse. "Please forgive me." Maybe if he pleaded enough this one wouldn't hurt him like the others.

The rustling continued and then there were steps. It was coming.

"I'm sorry," he murmured through dry lips. "I'm sorry." Beg. Just keep begging.

"Merlin. It's Carwyn."

Carwyn. That's right. Carwyn hadn't accused him yet. He felt hands on his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation.

"Merlin." The voice cracked as if it was...crying? "Look at me."

Merlin hesitantly turned his head and opened his eyes. Carwyn's face was above him. Tears had escaped down his cheeks.

"You're safe, Merlin. You're in your room in Camelot. I promise no one will hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Merlin stared at his charge for a moment, then let his eyes roll around the room. It _was_ his room. He was back in Camelot once more. He collapsed back against the pillow in relief.

* * *

"Do you want more?" Carwyn asked.

Merlin nodded.

Carwyn smiled. The warlock had already eaten _two_ bowls of soup. It wasn't much more than salted water. Reynfrey had said he shouldn't take too many solid foods yet.

Carwyn took Merlin's bowl and refilled it from a pot on a table. Merlin ate silently, but heartily. He'd awoken last night, lucid enough. Carwyn hadn't pressed him then. He'd simply sat next to him as Merlin's breathing regulated and he relaxed peacefully.

The door to the room opened and Gwen rushed through and up to the bed. "Merlin!"

"Gwen," Merlin greeted, his voice still hoarse.

"We've been so worried about you."

Merlin smiled shortly. "You don't have to worry anymore."

Gwen smiled back.

Merlin held his bowl out to Carwyn. "More water."

Carwyn set the bowl down on the table and returned with a cup of water. Merlin drank slowly.

Gwen glanced at Carwyn, a question in her eyes. He shook his head, indicating he hadn't said anything about what happened yet.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked.

Merlin lowered the cup to look at her.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

Merlin unconsciously fingered the cup. "You really mean how much do I remember?"

Gwen nodded.

"I think...everything."

"I don't want to press you..."

"It's alright."

"Who was this sorcerer?"

"Was?" Merlin asked. "He's dead?" His tone was hopeful.

"After we rescued you," Carwyn explained, "we collapsed the cavern you'd been held in. He was inside."

Merlin took this in. What did that prove? Morgana had escaped once when they thought she'd died from falling stone. Carwyn caught the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Who was he?" Gwen repeated.

"His name is Rankin," Merlin said. "He was Eira's brother."

"Eira," Gwen breathed out. The woman was seared into her memory, not just because of her betrayal, but because she'd been the first person Gwen had ever been forced to execute.

"He meant to bring Morgana back and destroy you." Merlin glanced between Gwen and Carwyn. "I assume since you're here, he failed."

"You stopped him," Carwyn said. "You sent Morgana back."

Merlin thought back to a hazy memory of himself giving away his magic to his old rival. He'd been tricked. He saw that now, but... He looked down at the cup. What if... His eyes gleamed gold. The water in the cup bubbled and steam escaped. He let out a pent up breath. He still had magic.

Carwyn laid a hand on his shoulder. "She didn't take your magic." He took the cup and set it back on the table.

Merlin reclined against the pillows propped up on his headboard. He glanced down at his bandaged wrists.

"We owe you Camelot once again," Gwen said. She leaned down to kiss his cheek.

Merlin forced a smile. Not really. He'd been too weak to resist Morgana. Just another failure. If Carwyn hadn't shown up, he would have given her everything.

The door opened again. Word had traveled fast. The warriors and several knights came streaming in. They surrounded the bed, talking over themselves to the warlock. Merlin stared at them in shock.

Carywn laughed. "They've all been wanting to see you. I guess they couldn't wait." He held up his hands. "Alright, alright. You've seen him. He's fine. Now, please, give him some peace." Several shouted their get wells to Merlin as the departed. Percival slipped through the crowd and made it to Merlin's side.

"I'm glad you're back. I can't handle all these young ones myself." He smiled widely.

Merlin's return smile was reserved. Percival clapped a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't help but wince at the knight's strength.

Percival turned to Gwen. "My lady, the council awaits."

Gwen sighed. "They never stop needing me." She squeezed Merlin's hand, promising she'd return soon, and departed with the knight.

Carwyn perched on the edge of the bed. Merlin watched the door shut. He seemed overwhelmed. He turned his head to Carwyn. "Are you alright?"

"Me?"

"Rankin told me...you were wounded in battle."

"Oh. That." Carwyn chuckled. "It's nothing." He raised his shirt to reveal a scar starting to form on the right side of his chest.

Merlin's eyes began to water. "I didn't get back to you in time."

Carwyn's expression sobered. "Don't lay that burden on your back," he reprimanded. _You carry too much already._

"But..."

"No. Blame me if you want to. I'm the one who let all of you walk into a trap. I'm the one who lost four knights _and_ you."

Merlin stared. Four knights? He squeezed his clasped hands. "Tell me all that happened."

* * *

Merlin closed his eyes after Carwyn finished relating his story. Four knights dead in battle. Grimald. The people of Combe. And Alec. And he hadn't been able to stop any of it.

"Look, Merlin, I mean it. Don't take any of this on." Carwyn's tone was harsh. "You already think you've failed everyone a dozen times over."

Merlin opened his eyes. Carwyn spoke as if he knew what had happened to him. In fact, neither he nor Gwen had questioned him about his own story. _I heard his voice._ "I heard you speaking to me about...opening the door."

Carwyn rubbed his chin. "I have something to tell you."

"Go on," Merlin prompted warily.

"When you were taken, I started to...see things. Things that you saw. Nyra figured out that you and I have some kind of bond through your magic. You were in trouble and it connected us so I could find you."

"You saw what I saw?"

"Most of the shades anyway."

Merlin stared at him for a moment, aghast. "You know who I really am."

Carwyn's heart sank. "I know who _they_ thought you were. The lies they told you."

Merlin's heart battered his ribs. "It was true."

"Not all of it," Carwyn insisted.

Sudden anger flared in Merlin's chest. Why deny the truth? To hurt him more? "It is true. I killed people. I hurt them. I acted in my own interest and denied magic."

Carwyn crossed his arms over his chest. "Merlin, listen. We all do things we're not proud of."

"Not like this!" Merlin shouted. His fists clenched and he slammed them into the bed. "These weren't small sins. You know that. I feared for my life, so I let people go to the chopping block. I denied my people freedom and warned Arthur against magic. I abandoned Morgana. I poisoned her! I didn't tell anyone about the prophecy. I pushed Mordred away. And all of it because I was too...too...consumed with Arthur Pendragon!"

Carwyn stood, pacing away from the bed. He'd never in his life seen Merlin so angry. He gathered his thoughts and turned. "We should talk about this later. Let's get you healed and..."

"What is there to discuss?" Merlin continued to shout. "I know the truth. The truth is I cared about your father too much."

Carwyn stared. "How can you say that? You and he..."

"If I hadn't cared for Arthur so much I could have done what I was supposed to do! I was blind!"

Carwyn's brow creased, his own anger rising. "Do you care for _me_ too much then?"

Merlin shook his head and muttered. "I don't know."

Carwyn backed away. He turned and fled the room.

Merlin fell back against the headboard. He lifted a hand to his forehead and wept.


	27. Irreversible

Carwyn rested folded arms on the edge of the battlements, staring out at a perfect day in Camelot. The sky was blue with a few feathery clouds. The noise of people bustling about their lives drifted up from the town. Below, soldiers and servants attended to duties. Any other time he would have been at peace up here, but now he wrestled with confusion and hurt.

"Sire?"

Carwyn peered over his shoulder. "Percival."

Percival stepped up to him. A couple soldiers behind him moved down the battlements. Carwyn guessed the knight had been seeing to their duties. "I thought you'd be with Merlin."

"I was," Carwyn said, looking back out at the familiar view.

"Ah," Percival intoned, leaning over like the prince. A moment of silence passed, then he spoke again. "The queen told Sir Leon and I what happened to Merlin. I suppose he won't be the same for a while."

"If he ever is the same," Carwyn muttered under his breath.

"I can only imagine if all the people I killed in my lifetime were lined up in front of me. I've probably killed hundreds."

Carwyn turned his head to the knight who looked over at him. "Most of the time," Percival said quietly, "you don't think about what's happening when you take lives. You know you have to and the excitement of battle takes over. But if you stop for a moment and really think, you know you just killed a person who was loved by someone else. Who had joys and pains like you." Percival let out a long breath. "Too much thinking about it, and it kills you."

Carwyn dropped his gaze. It was so much easier to do those things when your enemy was faceless. He'd never really thought about the men he'd killed. Did they love? Did they have wives and children? Yet, he couldn't be responsible for their choices.

"Merlin was always softer than the rest of us," Percival went on."It's not a bad thing. His compassion makes him a good man. When we were running off getting into trouble, his care was keeping us safe. But I think he feels everything more deeply and to face what he did from that sorcerer..." Anger flashed across the knight's features.

Carwyn realized Merlin's enemies weren't faceless. Some were friends. Many he knew well. How much harder it must be to confront what he'd done to them. "I expected him to be hurt. But...he's angry. He told me he cared about my father too much. I can see it in his eyes. He thinks his friendship with my father was a mistake." _And maybe being my guardian_ , Carwyn added to himself.

"What he and Arthur had," Percival ruminated, "it was enviable. All of us knew Arthur cared for us like brothers, but Merlin was worth even more. Merlin was the man he depended on every day to help him be the king he should be."

"How can Merlin deny that? Think it was an obstacle to his destiny."

Percival sighed. "He's just spent days being told everything was his fault. Sometimes to protect ourselves, we get angry. We say things we don't really mean."

"Sir Percival?" a timid voice spoke.

Percival looked over his shoulder. "New soldiers," he growled. "Need their hands held like children." He smiled at Carwyn, clapping him on the shoulder, then moved down the battlements.

Carwyn stared up at the beautiful sky such a contrast to the storm inside his heart and mind.

* * *

Merlin kept hearing his voice shouting his crimes at Carwyn, telling the boy his relationship with Arthur had been an impediment to his life. He crushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then stared blankly at the far wall. Even if he thought so, he couldn't banish his affection for Arthur or his son. He'd given his heart to the Pendragons for too long to take it back.

"Arthur," he whispered. Over the years he'd developed the habit of talking to the king. In the beginning he'd done it to force back loneliness, the pain of remembering Arthur wasn't really there. What would Arthur tell him if he was here? _Grow up, Merlin. Stop wallowing in your pain._

Merlin rubbed at his forehead. _But you don't understand, Arthur. You never did. You didn't have this weight of destiny on you. You didn't turn on your people or have to poison someone to save Camelot._ As much as he still cared for Arthur, Arthur had been oblivious to much of what had happened in his kingdom. He hadn't ever truly understood Merlin's predicament.

 _So you did terrible things. You yell at my son for that?_ Merlin closed his eyes against Arthur's voice in his head.

The door cracked open. Merlin looked up, fearing Carwyn's appearance. He wasn't ready to face the boy yet. A copper head peeked in. "Emrys."

Merlin relaxed. "Nyra."

The Druid opened the door wider and stepped in, hobbling with a walking stick in one hand, the other arm in a sling. She made her way to a chair by his bed and sank down.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked.

"I am fine. _You_ are not."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at her.

"I could feel your anger on the other side of the castle," she explained.

Merlin looked away from her.

"I know what you went through."

Merlin snapped his head back to her. "Does everyone know my crimes then!"

"So he told you he saw through your eyes."

Merlin just stared at her.

"Not everyone knows that." Nyra said defensively. "Your bond with him saved your life."

 _Maybe I shouldn't have been saved._

"What would you rather have happened?" Nyra spoke directly, reading his expression. "That Morgana assault Camelot, kill the queen and the prince?"

Merlin grit his teeth. Of course he wouldn't rather that had happened.

"I'm...sorry," Nyra apologized. "Your anger is...powerful."

"You feel emotions," Merlin intuited, forcing himself to calm down.

"Strong ones. And your strength has always been in your emotions."

Merlin let out an incredulous laugh. "Strength...No."

"Yes. They can be strength. My people don't look up to you because you are a warrior. They admire your nature. Your compassion. Your endurance."

"It didn't help me much, did it?"

Nyra clenched her own teeth. "I won't argue with you. It isn't my duty to heal you. I came only to tell you that Carwyn has been entirely faithful to you. He wouldn't stop looking for you. Do you know he didn't just see what you saw? He felt your pain. _Physical_ pain. What you suffered, he suffered."

Merlin's eyes widened. _No._

"And he still kept looking for you. He wanted to see you more clearly to find you, and he didn't even stop to consider that the more he saw, the more pain he'd endure. He is devoted to you. Perhaps you can find some comfort in that." She stood, turned on her heel, and exited as fast as she was able.

Merlin slumped back against the headboard, his mind awash with new guilt.

* * *

Carwyn slowly opened the door to Merlin's room. He peeked inside. The warlock was turned on his side away from the door. He stepped quietly into the room, moving softly to the cot. He made to lay down on it, but Merlin spoke.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry."

"Don't do that, Merlin."

Merlin rolled over to face him.

"You've apologized too much in your life. You've been thoroughly destroyed. You have an excuse to be angry."

"You were hurt because of me."

Carwyn raised his hands in frustration. "My wound? That's nothing. I would have fought if you were there or not, and there's no guarantee you wouldn't have stopped it from happening. Seriously, Merlin. It's like you think every single thing that happens in Camelot is your responsibility. It isn't!"

"Nyra came to see me and told me when the shades attacked me...you felt it."

Oh. That's what he meant. Carwyn met his eyes. "I did. And don't feel bad about that either. I felt it, but I didn't suffer any aftereffects."

"I didn't thank you for finding me. Thank you."

Carwyn smiled slightly. "I would never abandon you." He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've done so much for me, how could I not return the favor? I'm alive because of you."

Merlin lowered his gaze.

"You've done good. So very much."

Merlin logically knew that, but all the good was covered in a shadowy cloud by the evil he'd inflicted, too.

Carwyn moved to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He spoke in a hushed voice. "I respect Arthur Pendragon, acknowledge he is my father. But I've never considered anyone else my real father but you, Merlin. Guardian, mentor, those are just titles. _You_ are my father and nothing less."

Merlin blinked as his eyes moistened. "I...I've done so much...You know the things I did."

"They don't matter to me. You told my father not to allow magic. You poisoned Morgana. You kept this prophecy to yourself. Perhaps they were the wrong things to do at the time, but I trust you. You must have had reasons."

 _Bad reasons._

"Anyway, I don't need to talk with you about those things. I want you to rest and heal. That's all." He reached out a hand and squeezed Merlin's arm, then stood. "I don't care if Reynfrey lectures me, I'm going down to the kitchens. What can I smuggle back for you?"

Merlin's voice was small. "The cook's vegetable muffins."

Carwyn smiled. "Vegetable muffins it is." He walked to the door and left.

Merlin stared after him, his emotions a tumult of love and grief.

* * *

Two more days passed. Carwyn spent much of that time in Merlin's chambers, but the warlock had shut down. He was sullen, spoke few words, and lay in bed listless. It was as if his entire will had been removed, as if he were afraid to do anything at all.

Carwyn sat down at his desk, looking over mounds of parchment, things his mother had let him put off attending to. He thought to tackle at least a couple of them, but couldn't concentrate on the papers. Finally, he drew out a fresh parchment, dipped his quill in ink, and began to write a letter. He should have done this when they arrived in Camelot, but he'd had only a short time to send a quick letter to Alec's parents. This letter was of a different sort. How did you explain to someone that the child they loved had been beaten down so far he hardly existed anymore?

 _My Lady Hunith_ , Carwyn wrote, then smiled wistfully. He'd always thought of Merlin's mother as a lady. He'd visited her multiple times. Ealdor was like a second home in many ways, a glorious retreat from the busy life of Camelot. They hadn't been back in at least two years.

Carwyn stared at the page. What to say and how to say it? He rubbed his forehead and set the quill back in the ink well. How could he tell her Merlin was a shell of himself and he'd likely never be the same again?

Carwyn stood and paced back and forth. He stopped when his mirror caught his eye. He considered himself, running a hand through his curly hair. It was a mess. His mother had long ago given up telling him to keep it combed. He stared into his own dark eyes for a moment, lowering his hand, a startling thought coming to him. _I'll never be who I was again either._ He'd lost four knights and Alec. He'd entered the darkness of the past with Merlin.

Carwyn tilted his head at his image. You couldn't really go back to normal, could you? Merlin would always remember the shades foisting their crimes on him, and he'd always have to live with the deaths under his command. He turned and glanced around the room as he thought back to Hunith and Ealdor.

He strode back to his desk, sitting down. He wrote a short message, folded and sealed the parchment, and walked to the door. He made his way towards the throne room, but caught his manservant on the way, giving him the letter with urgent instructions.

When Carwyn reached the throne room, he didn't wait. He entered without preamble. Some noble was petitioning his mother for who knows what, but he walked straight up to the throne.

"Excuse me," he said to the noble, who bowed his head and stepped back, deferring to him.

"Carwyn?" Gwen asked.

"I wanted to inform you I leave Camelot by noon."

* * *

Merlin turned sluggishly from his left to his right side. A meal lay on the table not far from his bed, but he didn't want to get up. Walking hurt. His ankles, though bandaged, were weakened by the deep burns of the manacles. Anyway, he wasn't that hungry.

 _Arthur, if it had been you in that prison, you wouldn't be like this. You'd be stronger._

Merlin covered his eyes with his hands, breathing slowly, pushing away darkness and painful voices.

The door opened loudly. Merlin looked over. Carwyn entered, strode up to his dresser, picked up his travel bag, and opened his wardrobe. Merlin watched him begin removing clothing, folding it, and stuffing it in the bag.

"What are you doing?"

Carwyn didn't look at him. "We're leaving Camelot."

"Why?"

"Because you can't heal here."

"Carwyn..." Merlin jumped when an unexpected pair of trousers and a shirt were flung at him.

"You'll need to get dressed."

"Carwyn."

Carwyn finally looked up at him with hard eyes. "I _am_ your prince. _Get dressed._ "

Merlin sighed, but wearily climbed out of the bed, the habitual subservience that had trained him over the years obeying royalty as it should.

* * *

Carwyn made his way to the stables to retrieve his horse. He saw it prepared as he'd ordered, but he also saw a short woman with a sling and a bandaged leg securing her own saddle.

"Nyra. You can't possibly ride yet."

"I rode back here from the caverns," the Druid said, flashing him a quick glance.

"You _shouldn't_ ride, then." Carwyn walked over to her. "At least let me put your saddle on." He shook his head at her obstinacy as he gently pushed her out of the way and began working on the saddle.

"Where are you going?" he asked, though he knew she liked to be out in nature as much as Merlin.

"With you."

Carwyn pulled back from the saddle. "You are _not_."

"I am."

"Nyra," he breathed out in frustration. "This destiny of yours can be..."

"Annoying."

"Well, yes."

Nyra smiled widely. "Perhaps to you. I _can_ ride and I won't let you go alone."

"I ordered Sir Leon to send two knights with us."

"I can protect you even better than two knights."

"I want my warriors free from duties. All of you need it after everything we've been through."

Nyra's grey eyes stared hard at him.

Carwyn sighed. "If I order you to stay, will you?"

She continued to stare.

"You'll just come after me anyway," Carwyn mumbled. "Fine. Come."

She nodded her head to him.

"I'll help you mount." Carwyn aided her assent into the saddle, then grabbed the reins of his own horse, fighting to keep the pounding of his heart at the Druid's closeness out of his expression.

"Sire! Sire!" A young servant boy had entered the stables, breathless. "Videric, sire. He said you wanted these."

Carwyn accepted the bag the boy held out to him. He unclasped it and peered inside to see a couple heavy leather volumes and several lose sheaves of parchment. "Yes. Thank you." Carwyn strapped the bag to his horse's saddle.

"Videric wasn't very happy about it. He hates papers leaving his library."

Carwyn smiled. "Well, it's a good thing I'm the prince then and it's actually _my_ library."

The boy grinned back, then departed with a bow.

Carwyn directed his horse out of the stables, Nyra's horse clopping behind him. A group was gathering outside. Reynfrey had shown up, nodding to him as he entered the stables and glancing curiously at Nyra. Carwyn halted when he beheld his mother mounted on her own horse and dressed for travel. She always wore tailored pants and a shirt when on longer journeys.

"Mother?"

Gwen smiled at him and nodded to Nyra who bowed her head.

Carwyn looked back at the Druid, then to his mother. "Why do I sense a conspiracy?"

"I have left the kingdom in able hands," Gwen said.

"I can do this myself," Carwyn insisted.

Gwen met his eyes. "My heart, this is something _I_ must do as well."

Carwyn shook his head, but swung up onto his own horse. Leon appeared in the lane, assisting Merlin who limped slowly on his wounded ankles. Percival appeared behind them. Carwyn had expected Percival—the knight wouldn't miss a chance to see his wife and daughters again—but there was no other knight.

By the time the knights reached them, Reynfrey had joined the group on his own horse.

"Leon," Carwyn called out. "Who are we waiting for?"

Merlin glanced between them all with both curiosity and wariness.

"No one, my lord. I will accompany you."

Carwyn laughed shortly. Of course he would. He glanced at Merlin. _Don't you see, Merlin, how much loyalty you have earned?_

Carwyn nodded to Leon, then gestured him forward. The knight helped Merlin to Carwyn's horse, then knelt down with cupped hands.

"I can ride on my own," Merlin protested.

"You don't need to," Carwyn commanded authoritatively.

Merlin let out a resigned breath and stepped into Leon's hands, letting himself be aided up behind his charge. The knights disappeared momentarily and returned on horseback. Carwyn tapped his horse's sides with his heels, moving to the front of the group, then started forwards.

"Will you at least tell me where we're going?" Merlin asked.

"Ealdor," Carwyn answered.

"Home." Merlin's voice came out in a whisper. He felt a rush of desire and fear at the same time. To see his mother again...but how could he dare face her now?


	28. Emrys

A chill drifted on the air, stirring the campfire. Autumn spoke to Merlin on the breeze, bringing relief from summer heat, but warning of frosts to come. Merlin pulled his cloak tighter. They had halted for the night. He closed his eyes, sensing the magic flowing from the flora and fauna, the vibration of the living world. He felt the magic caress him as if it had missed his presence. He smiled softly.

"This makes me think of all the times we traveled."

Merlin opened his eyes to find Gwen settling down next to him. "Hm?"

"You, me, Arthur, the knights. I miss it."

Merlin sighed. He did, too. Some of his best memories came outside of the castle.

"Yet, sometimes...I wish the throne weren't ever mine."

"Then Arthur would be alive," Merlin noted.

Gwen smiled sadly. "Yes, but I mean even when he was alive. Life was much simpler when I wasn't queen. My duties were far less pressing."

"You're a perfect queen, Gwen. Arthur was wise to give Camelot to you," Merlin muttered.

"I suppose," she said quietly. "There's also the pain of loving him still. I think if I hadn't fallen in love with Arthur Pendragon, I wouldn't hurt like this."

Merlin shivered in his cloak. "You regret loving Arthur?"

"Sometimes."

Merlin turned from her to look at the fire. He felt her head lean against his arm.

"When we've suffered what we have, it's not surprising to consider we gave too much for him."

 _Carwyn told her,_ Merlin presumed. Told her what he'd said about Arthur.

Merlin felt conflicted. Arthur Pendragon had changed his life forever, given him the friendship he lacked, a friendship that went beyond simple duty or loyalty. He couldn't even put into words what it had meant to him, still did. At the same time, the shades had revealed how much his friendship with Arthur influenced his choices. He'd acted out of fear so many times. For that he regretted ever getting so close to the man.

Gwen spoke on. "I know coming back to us wasn't an easy choice, but I'm so grateful you did. You've made my son a man to be proud of, and you've given me the support I've needed to survive as queen. Without you, Camelot wouldn't be as strong."

Would it?

Gwen laid her hand on his. "We're all here, Merlin, because you mean something to us. We know we owe you our very lives."

Merlin scanned the encampment. Percival and Leon chatted like old times. Part of him wanted to join them, but he resisted. It didn't feel right. Reynfrey and Nyra talked in quieter conversation. Did the younger set think they owed him, too?

Merlin looked across the flames to Carwyn. The boy reclined, his face buried in a leather tome. He'd never been bent towards study, yet every time they'd rested he'd spent it pouring over books and parchments. Sometimes he scratched out notes on an additional parchment.

Merlin's chest constricted. Whenever they traveled like this, he and Carwyn inevitably ended up talking long into the night, but in the past two days, Carwyn had said little to him. Perhaps he'd developed a sudden interest in study to avoid his guardian. _Father. He called me his father._

Gwen must have followed his gaze. "Do you remember when Carwyn ate all the cook's sweet rolls?"

Merlin smiled. How could he forget? Gwen had been frantic over the missing boy and Merlin had found him in the pantry, sweet roll smeared all over his face. He'd been just about to use magic to clean the whole mess up when she appeared. She'd been so angry until she met Merlin's twinkling eyes and they'd burst into laughter.

"Or the time you caught him in the grain stores?"

Merlin looked down at his hands. Carwyn had been twelve. They had seen a family begging in the streets. Merlin had told him how little they had to eat. Carwyn had sneaked into the castle's grain stores to fill a couple bags and give them to the family. They'd delivered the bags together.

"No, Merlin," Gwen sighed. "I could never have raised him without you."

Merlin echoed her sigh. He might regret being blinded because of Arthur, but he couldn't ever regret raising his son.

* * *

Merlin's heart pounded when Ealdor appeared on the horizon just as the sun had begun to set. Carwyn pushed his horse forward, moving ever closer to the home Merlin dreaded.

"I sent a letter to your mother," Carwyn confessed.

Merlin's heart froze. "What did you tell her?"

"Not much. To expect us and that you'd been hurt." _In heart as well as body_ , Carwyn added to himself.

Merlin felt relieved his mother had been spared details, but his nervousness increased. This meant she'd ask questions. He'd have to tell her.

The door to Merlin's home opened and three children appeared, squealing and clapping.

"Father!" they yelled over each other, running past Carwyn and Merlin to the large knight at the back. Percival jumped off his horse and knelt to the ground as his daughters leaped into his arms. He grinned, kissing each on the head, then flinging the youngest onto his shoulders. He stood grasping the hands of the other two.

Carwyn grinned and Merlin couldn't help but smile. Percival would have brought his family to the capital if Adala would let him, but she'd inherited her uncle's farm and was reluctant to send her children to a busy city. She'd lived in Ealdor her entire life, and Percival understood her desire for her daughters to live freely outside of Camelot. Gwen had made sure he took many leaves to see them. Every time he returned vowing he'd stop being a knight and become a farmer, but it had never happened.

Adala stepped outside the door, meeting her husband. He leaned his bulk down to kiss the woman gently. Carwyn's heart raced. He forced himself not to look back at Nyra at the memory of his lips pressing against hers.

Merlin had leaned around to look at Carwyn. The prince had stiffened in his saddle. He beheld a tense longing in his face. He hadn't been blind these last three days. Carwyn kept looking at Nyra, then turning away when she noticed. The boy was in love. Merlin's mind wandered to a Druid girl with dark hair and eyes, to a kiss that had meant the world to him, a kiss he would never feel again.

"Merlin."

Merlin was drawn out of his reverie by his mother's voice, heavy with love and worry. He looked at the door. She wasn't as young as she had been. More wrinkles had formed, lining her precious face, but her eyes were the same earnest ones he had known since a child.

"Mother," Merlin greeted. He felt a hand on his thigh and looked down to see Leon holding out a hand to aid his descent. He accepted. The moment he touched the ground, his mother rushed him, embracing him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her as unwilling tears escaped his control.

* * *

Hunith had prepared a meal for them all and the group squished into her small home, filling her kitchen and living area. It might have been crowded, but it was also jovial. They shared news of Camelot, and she shared news of Ealdor. Camelot's was way more exciting, but the simple gossip of Ealdor was refreshing.

Throughout the meal, Merlin caught his mother glancing at him, her brow creased in concern. Merlin concentrated on his meal. He hadn't spoken a word as he ate. He knew that would bother her, but he didn't feel like talking. Although he welcomed the joviality, he felt like an outsider. Joy wasn't a part of him. Couldn't be part of him.

Carwyn spent the meal doing his own glancing at a Druid who chatted and laughed. The Nyra who transformed outside of Camelot always seemed freer, like she forgot to be constantly paranoid over his protection. _Another reason for her to reject me_. With him, she always had to be "on." He turned his attention to Merlin and shook his head sadly. What he wouldn't give to see one of Merlin's wide grins again.

Carwyn looked around the table and Hunith's eye met his. She raised her eyebrows at him. Carwyn nodded his head to Merlin. He'd already decided she'd have to get the story from her son. She looked to Merlin, then back at Carwyn and nodded.

* * *

After dinner, the group split into two. Percival, of course, would stay with his own family. Adala had prepared guest quarters for three of them. Leon, Gwen, and Reynfrey departed with Percival. Nyra obviously stayed. She wouldn't leave Carwyn who wasn't going to leave Merlin. She argued with Carwyn over the living room cot, but he finally ordered her to take it. She grumbled as she lay down on it. Carwyn set up his pallet on the other side of the living area, a candle next to his head as he lay on his stomach and pulled out his books and parchments again.

"Becoming a scholar?" Nyra asked as she snuggled in her blanket.

Carwyn yawned. "Something like that."

"What _are_ you reading? I've never seen you like this."

"History."

Nyra chuckled.

"What's funny about that?"

"Boring."

"Druids don't care about history."

"We tend to live in the present."

Carwyn rubbed at his forehead. "History can help you do that." He hoped what he was preparing would do just that.

"Hm," Nyra intoned sleepily. Carwyn smiled when her breathing changed, now deep as she slept. He shook thoughts of laying next to her out his head and stared at his book and parchment. He was almost ready.

* * *

"Do you have everything you need?" Hunith asked, standing at Merlin's bedroom door, a candle in her hand.

"Yes. Thank you," Merlin replied. He'd already changed into his nightshirt. He was turned away from her, breathing rapidly, hoping she wouldn't pry. He began to pull back the blanket covering the bed, but the sound of the candle holder being set down and her hands on his shoulders stopped him. She massaged gently and he closed his eyes, recalling times she had done this after long days of work. After a time, she gripped his shoulders and turned him around.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Merlin bowed his head. Hunith moved to the bed, sitting down. He reluctantly followed. She lifted one his hands into her lap and began to remove a bandage.

"Mother," Merlin said, pulling back, but she held his arm firmly.

"I want to know."

Merlin swallowed hard, but allowed her to remove the bandage. She didn't gasp or cry when she saw the red burn still on the mend. She simply held his wrist in her lap and looked into his eyes. "Who did this to you?"

Merlin swallowed again. "A sorcerer," he whispered.

"Tell me about this sorcerer."

Merlin peered into loving eyes he'd never been able to deny. "He was the brother of a woman Gwen executed. Leader of the Cult of Morgana."

Hunith nodded in understanding and to encourage him to continue.

"He led me into a trap and imprisoned me."

"He tortured you?"

"Not exactly," Merlin equivocated. He wished Rankin _had_ tortured him. Beatings and floggings and brandings he could have just flat out mentioned and that was that. But what had happened was so much more complex.

Merlin sighed. "It was a prison of dark magic. I was chained in enchanted manacles and any spells burned me." He withdrew his hand from his mother's lap, hugging it into his chest.

"What else?" Hunith prompted.

"The prison was made of gateways for the dead."

"The dead," Hunith whispered. "Dorocha?" No one who had lived through it forgot that time.

Merlin shook his head. "They were more personal. Shades who had...issues with me."

"Who?"

Merlin's anger came to his defense. "What does it matter who they were? They hated me, told me how I wronged them, and weakened me."

"For what purpose?"

"Isn't that enough?" Merlin asked, his eyes hard.

"I know when you don't want to tell me something," Hunith said quietly.

Merlin lowered his gaze. "The sorcerer wanted to bring back Morgana and I had to be weak enough to give her my magic...exchange my life for hers. Carwyn was able to rescue me and it didn't happen."

Merlin gripped the blanket again, hoping that was enough for her. Her hand laid over his. He looked back at her and almost broke at the tears in her eyes. "Whatever they told you, it wasn't true."

Merlin bit his lip and drew in a shuddering breath. "I'd like to sleep."

Hunith stood, leaned over to kiss his forehead, picked up the candle, and departed.

* * *

Hunith glanced at the living area. The Druid girl was asleep. She half expected the prince to be on the floor next to her after all the looks they'd shot each other during dinner, but Carwyn had dutifully laid down on the other side of the room. She moved over to the prince, smiling to herself. He had fallen asleep, his head resting on a large book. She set the candle down on the floor and gingerly lifted Carwyn's head from the book to his pallet.

She glanced at the book. It was a record of some sort. It didn't seem that interesting. Then she looked down at the parchment in the prince's handwriting. She picked it up, skimming it. It was a list of dates and events. She didn't recognize them all, but enough to understand.

She lay the book next to the pallet, sticking the parchment inside for safekeeping. She leaned down to kiss Carwyn's head. "May he see your heart in this," she whispered. Then she stood and retreated to her own room.

* * *

For two days, no one pressed Merlin to speak of anything he'd been through, and he went back to doing the one thing that had always brought him peace—communing with nature. He sequestered himself in the back garden, picking from plants giving forth their last produce before winter. He sat in the sun, its light warming the darkness in his soul.

Carwyn stayed nearby, stuck in his books and parchments. His mother spent nearly all her time with Hunith. Most of the time he and Merlin had visited Ealdor by themselves, but whenever his mother did come, he observed a strong bond between the two women. He'd once asked his mother about it, and she cryptically answered that Hunith had helped her when she was in great need. Now they whispered back and forth with ardent faces. Carwyn wondered if they shared motherly concerns—every so often his mother looked up and glanced at him, and Hunith to the back door.

The front door opened, admitting limping steps. "I've finished patrolling. No threats, my lord."

Carwyn turned to Nyra. "Did you let Leon get a break?" Nyra had been insisting the older knight join her in patrols around Ealdor.

"He will eat with Percival," Nyra said. "Though all of them promised to come tonight."

"We appreciate your attentiveness, Nyra," Gwen spoke up.

Carwyn glanced at his mother who raised her eyebrows at him. He looked back at the Druid. "Yes. Thank you."

"Of course, sire," Nyra replied as she sat down across from him and picked up a knife to butter a slice of bread.

"Where's Reynfrey?" Carwyn inquired. The warrior had checked on Merlin that morning, but he hadn't seen him since.

"Your physician," Nyra said, looking to Hunith.

Hunith grinned. "Less a physician and more an herbalist."

"She said she wanted Reynfrey's advice on something."

Hunith laughed. "We shouldn't wait for him, then. Pare will talk his ear off and feed him until he bursts."

Carwyn looked to the back door. He'd finally finished what he'd been working on, though he was hesitant. How would Merlin react?

"Let me help," Gwen said, standing. She brought over a couple trays and set them on the table.

"I'll get Merlin," Carwyn offered. He stood and strode to the back door. He stared out for a moment. The warlock lay on his back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling slowly. "I think he's asleep."

"Let him rest, then," Hunith said.

As they ate, Carwyn forced himself to keep his eyes on his plate. He had so much trouble _not_ looking at Nyra when she was near. If it weren't for her destiny, he might have been tempted to dismiss her from the warriors. As it was, he knew she would just stalk him no matter what and that made everything worse. She'd always be near him, and he'd always know he couldn't pursue her.

When they finished, Hunith turned to clean up, but Gwen insisted she sit. "Even queens should get their hands dirty once in a while," she said, dipping into the washing with gusto.

Carwyn watched his mother. She was always far more relaxed outside of the capital. He thought he glimpsed what she must have been like before she was queen.

Carwyn heard a shovel digging into the earth outside. Merlin must have awoken. He picked up several sheets of rolled parchment and stood. He took a preparatory breath and strode to the back door.

* * *

Merlin's eyes gradually opened. He'd fallen asleep in the garden. The cloudy day and autumn breeze had spared him a burn from the sun. Burn. He held up his bandaged wrists, a constant reminder of what had passed. He lowered them and stood, pushing thoughts out of his mind. He hated thinking. He picked up his shovel and began to dig out any leftover root vegetables.

"Merlin?"

He looked over. Carwyn had appeared in the back doorway.

"The meal is ready."

Merlin continued to dig. "I'm not hungry."

Carwyn stepped out the door. "You've barely eaten this whole trip."

Merlin didn't answer.

"Can we...talk?"

Merlin stopped shoveling. "Why?"

"I have something to show you."

Merlin leaned with one hand on the shovel. "You want to convince me the shades lied. You weren't there when the things they said happened. They didn't lie about everything."

"But you know they lied about some things."

"Morgana wanted my magic," Merlin said angrily.

"But the others?"

Merlin shook his head, annoyed. "You want me to heal, then leave me alone."

"Stop it, Merlin!"

Merlin turned in surprise to the voice reprimanding from the doorway. His mother marched out to him, a plate with a meal in her hand. She gave it to him, but her eyes reflected the anger he'd seen many times when she chastised him as a child.

"Listen to Carwyn. He has your best in his heart. He's listened to you all these years. It's time for you to listen to him."

Merlin dropped his eyes to the plate. He limped over to the shade of the house, sitting on the covered rain barrel.

Hunith put an encouraging hand on Carwyn's shoulder. "Go ahead," she whispered. "I'll keep the Druid girl occupied."

Carwyn smiled gratefully at her. When she moved back into the house, he walked over to Merlin, fiddling with the parchments in his hands. "I guess mothers never really change."

Merlin did smile briefly at that. "Not much," he agreed.

Carwyn sank down on the stool next to the rain barrel. "The shades must own their own choices."

Merlin chewed slowly, his eyes on his plate. "My choices affected theirs."

Carwyn had thought long and hard about this. "Tell me, Merlin. If a man whispers in my ear as I stand by a wall staring at forbidden fruit, if he tells me how sweet it is, how much I should desire it, and I climb that wall and steal it, who is at fault?"

"Both," Merlin answered succinctly.

"Both might bear a portion of guilt, but the man did not make me climb the wall nor make me eat the fruit. _I_ made my own choice and I cannot absolve myself simply by pointing the finger at him. You cannot carry the weight of every evil that has befallen Camelot. Uther, Morgana, Mordred, all of them, _they_ made choices themselves."

Merlin ruminated. He had a point.

"Here." Carwyn dropped the parchments in his lap, retaining one he unrolled. "I've looked over the court records from the time you arrived in Camelot. I know I don't know everything, but you told me a lot of stories. Whatever you did, it's listed here. Look. This is just your first year." He held a parchment up for Merlin to see.

Merlin stared at the first date and its entry: _Met Arthur Pendragon and saved his life. Became his manservant._ Another date was written below: _Stopped Valiant from killing Arthur during a tournament._ And the next: _Rid Camelot of a magical beast killing our people._ The list was extensive.

"You did all of this and more," Carwyn said. Merlin was speechless as Carwyn pressed the parchments into his hands.

"And my father," Carwyn's voice quieted, "you _did_ make him a better man. Camelot wouldn't be Camelot without how much you changed my father. If you hadn't been there for him, I think he might have gone the way of Uther. Morgana would have been corrupted, and he would have had to fight her and I don't think he could have done that without being hardened. But he had your friendship.

"This Golden Age we have now, it's your doing, Merlin. You had to go through so much to get here, and I'm sorry for the pains you endured, but I'm certain the only reason Camelot isn't ruled by dark magic, that Albion isn't under attack from it, is because of _you_."

Carwyn looked down at his hands. "I haven't gone through as much as you, I know, but I lost men. At first, I blamed myself for it. But I remembered something you told me, that I would lose men some day and it would be hard, but that's what would happen if I fought for what was right. I won't let those deaths destroy my resolve."

Carwyn took a breath. Merlin still stared at the parchments in his hands. "Don't let the sorcerer win. If you let what those shades said destroy you, he's won. He's dead and he's won anyway. Fight him."

Carwyn stood. He didn't know if he'd said enough, but he should leave Merlin alone now. He moved around the water barrel towards the house, but was stopped by a hand grasping his wrist.

Merlin's voice was thick with emotion. "Whatever my thoughts, I don't regret raising you. I've always considered you my son."

A lump rose in Carwyn's throat. "I know," he whispered. Merlin let him go, and he went back into the house.

* * *

Carwyn felt spent. His mother and Hunith sat at the table. Nyra lay on her cot, eyes closed, apparently napping.

"Hunith told me what you wrote," Gwen said softly, her eyes moist. "How did he receive it?"

"I don't know," Carwyn said, his shoulders slumping.

"Give him time, my heart. Be patient."

Carwyn nodded, moving towards the front door. Hunith stood. "You know, after Arthur's death, he came here. He thought he had no purpose. Until you were born. You gave him back his life."

Gwen nodded at him. "You've been good for him."

"We've been good for each other," Carwyn mumbled. He pushed open the front door, glancing at Nyra. "Tell her I'm in the garden if she wakes and not to bother me."

Both the women chuckled. "Alright," Gwen said.

Carwyn left, seeking a friendship that was uncomplicated and always comfortable.

* * *

Merlin unrolled another parchment. He sat on the ground, his back against the house. He'd read the first one, overwhelmed. Had he really done all that in just his first year? And there were several more lists to read. _If you just read these, you'd think Camelot was the most dangerous place in Albion._ Perhaps they should have recorded more of the mundane days, the endless chores.

Merlin kept reading. He'd never seen his life laid out so clearly. _What did I do before all this?_ As much as he loved Ealdor now, he remembered keenly what it had been before—a place of restriction and confusion. His mother had sent him away for several reasons, but one was to give him the guidance she couldn't through Gaius.

Camelot. What a place to send a magic wielder! And that he'd ended up a servant in the royal household. It was ridiculous and...meant to be. _I finally knew my purpose. This_ was his purpose, he thought as he unrolled a third parchment. Event after event. His actions preserving Camelot for Arthur. He didn't defend the Pendragons for Uther, but for his son. _For my friend._ Was it true Arthur wouldn't have been the man he became without him?

Merlin rested his chin in his hand, his elbow propped on a steepled knee. Both Kilgharrah and his mother had described them as two sides of a coin. He'd always thought that an apt description, Arthur with his extroverted gallantry, him with his introverted magic. Together they were supposed to unite Albion—or so he'd been told. It hadn't quite happened. They had peace, but unity? Only of a superficial kind.

When, then, was this supposed to happen? When Arthur returned? And when was that?

Merlin continued to read the lists. Memory after memory passed through his mind. Some made him laugh, some made him smile, but many pierced his heart. Times he almost lost Arthur. Times Camelot almost fell. Times he'd failed the shades.

The shades. How could the dead torment him so much? Gaius' words after he'd confessed to looking into the Crystal of Neahtid came back to him: _The future is as yet unshaped. It is we that shape it. It is you, Merlin. The decisions you make. The actions you take. Remember that._

 _My decisions._ Merlin reached the last entry: _Was captured by the sorcerer Rankin. Defeated Morgana again. Saved Camelot_.

Merlin set the last parchment to his side, folded his arms across his knees, and buried his face in them. He let the shades invade his mind, reciting their accusations. _Their decisions._ They did have to own them. He owned his and they theirs. And Arthur...

Merlin's breath caught in his throat. "I miss you, Arthur." Two sides of a coin. But the other side was empty now. He wasn't a coin anymore, or...he was the whole coin. Merlin raised his head. What would Arthur find when he returned? A man broken by the past?

Merlin stood. He tottered a moment as he stepped into the garden, but kept walking. He left the back of the house, moving towards the woods.

* * *

Carwyn halted when he felt he'd gone far enough from Ealdor. He cried to the sky. "Aithusa, eimai edo! Ela se mena!" He only had a few moments to wait until the flapping of wings materialized into the white dragon who landed before him and rubbed her head against his chest. He laughed at her enthusiasm and stroked her chin.

"Hey, girl. Sorry I haven't called you in a while."

She twittered out a string of welcomes.

"We found Merlin. He's hurt."

Her noises turned to whines.

"I don't know if he'll be all right."

Aithusa jerked her head up, her neck swinging back and forth.

Carwyn looked around, alarmed. "What is it?"

The dragon suddenly bounded forth, careening into the woods. Carwyn ran after her, cursing himself. He hadn't worn his sword. He was about to employ his sight when Aithusa skidded to a stop and thrust her head behind a tree.

"Alright. Yes. You can stop now," an annoyed voice said.

Carwyn's eyes widened as he made it to Aithusa's side and peeked behind the tree. "Nyra?"

Nyra looked over Aithusa's head. The dragon was snuggling against her like it had him. She frowned. "Your dragon likes me."

"Why are you here?"

"I wasn't asleep," Nyra chided. "I left when your watch dogs weren't paying attention."

Carwyn rolled his eyes. "Does it ever occur to you I might want to be alone?"

"I wasn't bothering you until _she_ ," here Nyra pointed at Aithusa, "interfered."

Carwyn turned his attention to Aithusa. "It's like she's spent time with you."

"She has." A flash of guilt crossed Nyra's face.

Carwyn narrowed his eyes. "When?"

"She followed you to my people. I saw her and warned her away. Found her a place to hide."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"No time. It was the morning we talked to Rewi."

Nyra laid a hand on the dragon's head. "If I am going to protect you, I must protect her also."

Carwyn stared at her. So now her destiny included Aithusa. Great.

Aithusa stepped away from them, settled her great bulk down, and raised her wing. Carwyn looked at Nyra sheepishly. "She wants me to sit with her."

"Go ahead."

Carwyn walked over to Aithusa, feeling Nyra's eyes on him. He'd intended to get away from everything for a while. He slid down Aithusa's side and was surprised when Nyra joined him. He'd thought she'd pace back and forth outside to guard him. He glanced at her arm and leg.

"You really shouldn't follow me around out here when you're bandaged like that."

Nyra shrugged.

Aithusa lowered her wing and Carwyn leaned his head back against her side, as always listening to the peace of her thrumming heart and resting in the semi-darkness afforded by her wing.

"I saw you call her." Nyra's voice was quiet.

"Um hm," Carwyn intoned. What was interesting about that? She'd seen it before.

"Do you...ever wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

Carwyn heard Nyra suck in a deep breath. "If she loves you only because you are a dragonlord? Her will is already bent to you."

Carwyn's heart stopped. He opened his eyes to look at her. He dared not even hope in what her words implied. "She...can resist," he stuttered, his heart now thumping against his ribs.

Nyra tilted her head curiously.

"It hurts her, actually," Carwyn admitted.

"Oh."

Carwyn swallowed nervously. "You're not a dragon."

Nyra fingered her sling. "You said...you didn't care about me because of my destiny?" Her grey eyes rose, staring earnestly at him. "How can you be sure?"

Carwyn ran a hand through his hair. His chest ached. "No woman has ever made me feel the way you do," he whispered. "I'm not trapped. With you, I feel more free to be who I am. I meant what I said. You make me better. Your destiny doesn't matter to me."

Carwyn startled when tears welled in Nyra's eyes. He looked away from her. "Forget I said anything. It's clear I only cause you pain. I..." He ceased talking when Nyra's hand shot out, turning his face back to her. She gripped the back of his head and her lips locked with his. A tremor jolted through him as he wrapped his arms around her back and drew her small frame into his body.

* * *

Merlin pulled back the moss curtain to his old hiding place. He ducked inside, relieved to see it still hadn't changed. The grass hadn't submitted to Autumn's chill yet, the white flowers maintaining their bloom. Merlin approached the edge of the pool and sat down. He removed his shoes and socks and rolled his pants legs up. He stared at his bandaged ankles for a moment, then slowly unwound the wrappings. He encircled his ankles with his fingers, thinking of the terror and pain of the dark crystal prison. He released them and slid his legs into the water. He bit back a gasp. It was cold today.

He leaned back, his arms supporting his weight. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He thought back to Rankin, the sorcerer claiming he'd learn the truth about himself. He reviewed those truths. _I did those things._ He _had_ failed, but that wasn't all he'd ever done. Carwyn's lists flowed through his mind. He'd done what he was supposed to do—he'd supported and changed the other side of the coin. In the process, he'd given his heart away, and he knew he wouldn't ever be taking it back. But...

"I think, I have to let you go, Arthur." Merlin let his words settle in his heart. He'd thought of himself in terms of Arthur for so long, but Arthur wasn't here anymore. He had to stop living in Arthur's shadow if he would ever be the man he should be. He'd remember Arthur, honor him, even wait for him, but he had to live without him.

Merlin sat up. He unbandaged his wrists and stood, wading to the middle of the pool. He ran his hands through the water. Gooseflesh rose on his skin. He closed his eyes again and let magic seep through his fingertips. The water tingled with energy. No more regret. No more being held back.

Merlin confessed softly. "I defended Uther who killed my kind." Magic flowed out of him. "I let my kind die without defense." More pulsing magic. "I told Arthur to deny magic. I withheld the prophecy. I abandoned Morgana. I poisoned her." The water throbbed with magic as Merlin felt the guilt of every word, then let it go.

He drew in one last long breath, confessing the deepest guilt of them all. "Arthur died in my arms." The pool began to ripple with the force of his magic. It shone brightly and surged up his body. His eyelids fluttered open. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it. His eyes flamed a fierce, continuous yellow. He tilted his head back and let every bit of his magic loose. Wind whipped around the hidden retreat; the water thrashed in waves. He cried out.

Suddenly, all was still. Merlin took several deep breaths. He stumbled to the mossy rocks and climbed out. He shook all over, cold and tired. He made to wipe his face, then stalled, staring at his wrist. The burn was gone.

* * *

Carwyn traced the scar on Nyra's forehead, then kissed it gently. Her head lay against his chest. He noticed her tattoo and ran a finger over it, then caressed her braided circlet. Nyra pushed away. She reached up and undid the braids, letting them fall. Carwyn untwisted them, ran his fingers through her copper waves, and kissed her once more.

Nyra drew back with a concerned expression.

"What is it?"

"Your mother. What will she think?"

"She was a servant. She'll be glad."

"But you will be king. Druids are still outsiders in so many ways. The people won't understand."

Carwyn lay a hand behind her neck. "Merlin didn't think they'd accept a prince with magic, but over time, they have. It's time to push them a little more." He massaged her neck. "I love you."

Nyra smiled. "And I you."

Aithusa stirred, flapping her wings. Carwyn glanced up at her agitation. "Jealous, girl?" She was beginning to stand. He gave Nyra his hand and helped her to her feet as the dragon moved from them to another figure tromping through the forest. Carwyn stared. "Merlin?"

The warlock paused only for a moment to greet Aithusa, cupping her head in his hands and meeting her forehead to forehead. Both closed their eyes and Carwyn felt the touch of magic between them. Then Merlin let her go and strode towards him.

Carwyn's hand tightened around Nyra's. Merlin walked with determination; any limping had vanished. His eyes had transformed. The listlessness and indecision was gone, replaced with a fire Carwyn had never seen. Merlin stopped in front of him and grasped his shoulder.

"Thank you," Merlin said. "I'm free. I've paid for my crimes and it's time I earned my title." He would be what he was born to be—the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth. "Come. We have much work to do." He let Carwyn go and marched away, heading back to Ealdor.

Carwyn's soul soared as he and Nyra shared wondrous glances and followed after the man whose words hummed with magic inspiration.

Merlin smiled widely as he led them. He hadn't missed Nyra's loosened hair or their joined hands.

* * *

In another land along the border of Camelot, a young woman darned her husband's socks for the third time that week. He was always wearing them out, but she smiled despite her weariness. He should have been home a while ago. He must have been talking again. Talking, always talking to anyone who'd listen to his crazy ideas.

She sighed contentedly when the door to their tiny hovel opened. Finally. She looked up, but started when she beheld a limp form in her husband's arms. She dropped her darning and stood. "What happened?"

"I found him on the road," her husband replied, huffing and puffing as he set his burden down on the only bed in their one room home.

The woman stared at the stranger. His eyes were closed and he trembled uncontrollably. Sweat beaded his bruised and cut forehead. He was pale. She tentatively touched his cheek. "He's so cold." She'd expected him to be hot.

"I think he's dying." Her husband pointed at the stranger's arm, twisted in an unnatural way. "And he's got bruises everywhere."

"What can we do?"

"I don't know."

The woman strode to the fire. "We can make him warm at least." She set a pot of water over the flames.

"H—help me." The stranger had awoken.

Her husband reached a hand down to the man's arm. "You're safe. We'll do what we can."

"What do you think happened to him?" the woman asked.

"It doesn't look like bandits. More like when your brother was caught in that rock slide two years ago."

The woman nodded as she pulled out her tea herbs. She picked those that were medicinal and dropped several pinches in the pot. "We can only hope he lives out the night."

The stranger gasped and turned on his side away from them, his eyes flashing oddly gold before he closed them again.

* * *

Author's Note: This story is divided into three sections, Part I: Prince, Part II: Warlock, and next chapter will start Part III: Kingdom. I want to thank everyone who has followed, favorited, or commented. This fic has grown longer than I anticipated and I'm so excited you've chosen to go on the journey with me! Thanks for the encouragement that keeps me writing!


	29. Camelot

**Part III: Kingdom**

Merlin signaled to Pello with two of his fingers, gesturing him to the back door of the shack. Pello nodded gravely and sneaked away, three magic warriors on his heels. Merlin glanced at the warriors behind him. He didn't really need them. He brought them along only to observe. They had instructions to do nothing unless he ordered them to.

Merlin closed his eyes and cocked his head, listening. His eyes glowed gold under his lids as his hearing amplified. The shack's wooden structure creaked. He strained to hear anything human. There! Breathing so soft he almost missed it.

Merlin opened his eyes. He held his hand palm up, gesturing to the warriors behind him to stay put. He made his way to the door. He always gave the accused a chance to submit. He knocked.

"Joris?" No sound from inside. Merlin laid a hand on the door, pushing it open, hoping he didn't find himself in a fight. "Joris? I won't harm you."

A burst of fire shot in his direction. Time slowed for Merlin as he darted out of the way. He held his hands up. "Stop! Don't!"

A middle aged man jumped out from behind a tall shelf cluttered with dark magic objects. "You'll never take me, Emrys!"

"You will receive a fair trial."

"What fairness is there in Camelot for my kind?"

"I swear to you, the queen is just."

"She listens to you!"

"And I am just."

"No, no. You hate us all."

Merlin shook his head, his heart sad. He heard this often from those he confronted. "You've been reading lies." He'd already spied a copy of the book on the man's shelf. "You've been misled."

The man's shoulders began to shake in fear. "I...didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Merlin nodded, but he didn't know if that was entirely true. Witness accounts placed this man at the scene of a grisly murder. A girl. And what had been done to her before her death... Merlin shuddered. He didn't want to even think of it.

"Come with me. I guarantee your protection."

"No!" Fire flamed again, but Merlin's golden eyes blazed. He produced a wind that blew the fire aside. It caught several parchments on the table that began to burn. The man chanted a binding spell. Merlin incanted a counter spell and disarmed it. Now the man dashed to his back door, but it swung open to reveal Pello who shouted his own binding spell. The man dropped back, stunned. Merlin nodded to Pello. The warriors removed the man from the shack.

Merlin strode to the shelf, picking up the black leather book. It was thin, but the deception within powerful. He'd seen many of these in the last three years. He'd tried to track down their source, but discovered only multiple copyists, each who claimed a different anonymous person had asked the work to be done. Whoever was behind their commission had hidden well. Gwen considered the books treason, but Merlin had convinced her not to execute the copyists. Most only did it for the pay.

Merlin didn't even open the book. He knew what it said. He flung it onto the fire on the table. He let the fire consume it, then waved his hand over the flames, extinguishing them.

* * *

Night fell. The warriors set up camp. When the evening meal was passed around, Merlin requested an extra bowl of stew. He made his way to Joris, chained at the wrists and ankles and guarded by three warriors. "Here," he said, kneeling down in front of the man.

Joris turned his head away.

"You must eat," Merlin insisted.

"I'd rather starve."

Merlin bit back a tirade. He had to give this man the benefit of the doubt. He uncorked a water skin. "At least drink."

Joris pursed his lips tightly.

Merlin sighed. He left the stew and water skin with one of the guards in case Joris changed his mind. He retreated to his pallet. The newer warriors they'd brought along to learn watched him out of the corners of their eyes. He could guess their thoughts. How many times had he dealt with questioning of his ways? Ah, yes. There it was.

His eyes gleamed as muted conversation magnified in his hearing. One of the new warriors, Quintin, was talking to Pello.

"Why did he do that? Doesn't he care what that dark sorcerer has done?"

"He cares," Pello answered, his tone firm.

"But...why do that? He doesn't deserve it."

"Do you?" Merlin asked, his voice loud and carrying across the clearing.

Quintin blinked his eyes. "Eh...Emrys. I...I thought..."

"What sins do you carry?" Merlin continued. "Tell us your darkest deeds."

Quintin swallowed uncomfortably, glancing at the now silent camp, all eyes focused on him.

Merlin stood, his hands on his hips. "You don't need to tell us. But that is why. None of us are guiltless. Has he done worse? Perhaps. A trial will reveal the truth, but until it does, we treat him with respect. We will not become the dark to fight it."

The warriors muttered around the clearing. Merlin hoped they got the message. He'd certainly had to repeat it enough times. Pello smiled at him. Merlin shared an understanding glance. Neophytes.

Merlin didn't sit back down. He wandered away, his mind thrown back six years ago when he'd been imprisoned in one of the darkest places on earth. His own sins had found him there. They weren't of dark magic, but they had been grievous in many ways, and if he'd been told the lies so many dark sorcerers were these days, he might have gone the way they did.

Merlin stopped when he felt the pull of powerful magic. Any time he'd come this way, he'd felt it beckoning him. Sometimes fear tempted him to keep going and answer the summons, but he'd taken a vow to himself—he'd never step foot in the Crystal Cave again. It was perhaps a mile distant, but he wouldn't go to it. He wouldn't allow it to control him. He walked his own path now.

Merlin glanced back at the campfires dotting the encampment. He liked being hidden away in the dark. He had embraced his role as Emrys, delighted in it in so many ways. He felt more right than he ever had. At the same time, he bore the pressure of being the leader of the magic warriors of Camelot. They were 200 strong these days, and they viewed him as the epitome of sorcery.

Merlin smiled. It was glorious, really. Camelot was a center of magical learning these days. _Uther must be rolling in his grave_! Even so, he relished times he could remove himself from the equation, if only for a moment. Out here in the dark, he was just Merlin, the man who loved nature and quiet and simplicity.

He sat down, tossed his head back, and stared at the starry sky, letting the twinkling beams sink into his world-weary soul.

* * *

The trip back to Camelot was uneventful. When the castle rose in the distance, Merlin's heartbeat quickened. Although he did as Gwen asked, confronting the more serious accusations of dark sorcery, he hated being away from Camelot. Everything he cherished resided in the castle—family (if only by adoption), friends, memories of Arthur. It was home.

When he reached the courtyard, he directed Pello and his warriors to conduct Joris to the dungeon; he'd report to Gwen. He released the new warriors and tried to ignore their nervous and awed expressions. Give them a month and they'd realize he was more a man than a legend.

"I still can't get used to that beard."

Merlin grinned and subconsciously rubbed at his chin as he turned to meet Carwyn descending the steps to the entrance. The boy, man actually—he'd come of age three years ago—was wearing his crown. He must have been in court. Gwen had insisted he take on more duties to learn the roles of kingship. Merlin wondered if she appreciated Carwyn's own appearance. His curly hair was unruly as ever.

"I thought I looked distinguished," Merlin replied to the prince. He'd grown the beard a few months ago. He was gone often, and it was a hassle to shave every day, and no spell he'd discovered could do it right. He gave in. Or maybe, he was just too old to care anymore.

"Oh, the ladies like it alright," Carwyn teased. "Queen Mithian did nothing but bat her eyes at you when she was last here."

Merlin rolled his own eyes. "Mithian has a perfectly good husband."

Carwyn's eyes twinkled. "That doesn't mean women don't look at other men."

"Does Nyra look?" Merlin asked pointedly.

Carwyn laughed. "Probably when _I'm_ not looking."

Merlin climbed a few steps and shared a strong wrist grip with the man he considered his son.

"Speaking of Nyra..."

Merlin caught the weariness in Carwyn's voice. "She's training them, isn't she?"

"She doesn't think anyone else can do it as well as she can except you."

"Any of the captains are just as capable!" Merlin cried out in frustration. Drat that stubborn Druid woman! Moeris, Droyn, or Phipp should have been leading the training, not her.

"Tell that to her," Carwyn quipped.

Merlin growled as he stomped away to the training yard.

* * *

"Better form!" Merlin heard Nyra's voice shouting long before he saw her. "Your right side is vulnerable! Step lightly! You're not an overfed hog!"

Despite his irritation, Merlin couldn't help but smile. She was still the most capable sorceress he'd ever met and, he thought as he turned the corner to the yard, even while with child. He beheld her, twisting and turning across the yard, facing down four students despite her burgeoning belly.

Carwyn had wed Nyra a year ago. Merlin had been so joyous the muscles in his face had ached after all the grinning he did that day. Their love reminded him of Arthur and Gwen, though unsullied by accusations of betrayal. And yet, Nyra had her own secrets.

Merlin recalled opening the door to her chamber the day of the wedding, summoned there by her request. She'd been a picture of beauty, wearing a long flowing green dress, her copper hair trailing down her back. But she'd also been staring out a window, a rare expression etched on her face—fear. He'd approached her and gently spoken...

 _"What troubles you?"_

 _Nyra drew a hand to her eyes to brush away aberrant tears. "This day."_

 _"I know you love him," Merlin assured. "And he loves you."_

 _"Yes."_

 _"What is it, then?"_

 _Nyra met his eyes. "I want to tell you something."_

 _He nodded to encourage her._

 _"When in the Crystal Cave...I didn't just see myself fighting beside Carwyn."_

 _Merlin inclined his head slightly, intrigued. "What else did you see?"_

 _Nyra's voice quivered. "I saw myself sitting next to him on a throne, a crown on my head."_

 _Realization dawned on Merlin. "You knew you'd marry him."_

 _"I didn't try to love him," Nyra avowed vehemently. "I didn't assume it, but...I feel I'm caging him."_

 _Merlin smiled tenderly and took her hands in his. "I've raised Carwyn his entire life. In that time, he attempted to love, but he never truly loved until you. You give him something I can't provide. His body and soul are yours, and you'll never have to doubt that." He wiped a tear from her cheek._

 _Nyra drew in a long breath. "Thank you, Emrys."_

 _Merlin continued to hold one of her hands. "Now, let me escort the bride."_

 _Nyra smiled up at him, but tightened her grip. "Don't tell him. I don't want him to know what I saw."_

 _"My lips are sealed."..._

And they still were.

Merlin sprinted towards the training yard and threw himself in front of Nyra. His eyes flared gold as he raised a hand, conjuring a mighty wind that took all the students by surprise. Only one stayed on her feet. Merlin shot her a glance, hurling her backwards, but she shouted a spell and landed on her feet. He raised his eyebrows.

"She's like you," he muttered to the Druid behind him.

Merlin gripped several objects around the training yard with his mind and thrust them towards the student who fought back with her own spells, flinging out her hands to send them zipping away from her...except for the one Merlin concentrated most on. A bulging bag knocked her legs out from under her, and she fell to her back.

"Training is over for the day," Merlin declared.

The students stood, murmuring amongst themselves and staring at the mighty Emrys. Merlin made his own way to the capable girl on the ground. He reached a hand down to her and she took it, allowing him to help her up. Her eyes were deeply green, her hair raven black and tied behind her.

"You have skill," he complimented. He looked over his shoulder at Nyra. "You should move her up a level."

"I was planning on it," Nyra spoke stiffly, clearly annoyed at his interference.

Merlin looked back at the girl. "What's your name?"

"Muriel."

"Get some rest," he encouraged. The girl nodded to him and moved away.

"I was doing fine," Nyra said.

Merlin whirled on her. "You're supposed to be indisposed."

Nyra scoffed. "I'm not sick."

"No. You're carrying my grandchild."

Nyra sighed loudly. "You and Carwyn. _I_ am the one with child. Neither of you can lecture me about something you can't even do. The child and I are fine. I would know if something was wrong."

Merlin shook his head. "Nyra, please..."

Nyra stepped up to Merlin and gripped his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Emrys, hear me. I feel the life flowing inside me. The child is vital and strong. I know the queen lost several children. I will not lose this one. I promise."

Merlin stared at her for a moment, then implored, "For Carwyn's sake, can you take a break for a time?"

Nyra's brow creased. "I'm not incapable."

"He doesn't think that. His concern is only for your care. He can't carry the child, but he does what he can to protect his heir as you do."

Nyra sighed. "Yes, I know."

"Then consider not making him worry for once?"

"Perhaps."

* * *

Merlin made his way to the dining hall where he'd been informed Gwen was. He was starting to wish he'd sneaked into the castle, maybe climbed a wall to get to his chambers. He wanted to rest, but ever since he'd arrived he'd tackled one duty after another. He reached the double doors of the hall. He pushed one open to the sound of clashing swords.

Merlin slipped inside and sidled along a wall to observe. The dining table had been moved aside to accommodate a match. Gwen wore pants and a shirt, and her dark braid whipped around as she slashed at her opponent. Merlin smiled broadly. She was giving Leon a hard time of it—the knight was breathing heavily. Ever since Gwen had decided to become as skilled as her knights, Leon had taken her under his wing. She had advanced quickly.

Merlin considered his friends as they thrust and parried. White had begun to streak Gwen's hair; Leon's beard was mostly gray. Wrinkles that had no business being present graced their faces. _Are we really that old?_ Merlin reflected. He didn't _feel_ old. In some ways he felt more alive than he had when he first showed up in Camelot.

Gwen swiped at the knight, and Leon found his back against a column and a sword at his throat. He grinned. "Well done."

Gwen held out her hand and pulled him straight again. She didn't immediately let go, and they stood meeting each other eye to eye for a moment. Merlin cleared his throat. Gwen dropped Leon's hand and turned.

"Merlin! Welcome home."

Merlin strode to Gwen and embraced her.

"Merlin," Leon greeted. "What was the outcome?"

"We have the sorcerer. He's in the dungeons."

Gwen sheathed her sword. "We've scheduled his trial, but what are your preliminary thoughts?"

"Well, he had the book."

Gwen's countenance turned angry. "Did he use it?"

"It's possible." Actually, probable, but Merlin didn't want to prejudice her too much before the sorcerer had a chance to defend himself. "The witnesses will be here in three days at the least."

"We're ready for them," Gwen said.

"I will leave you to discuss," Leon said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder as he departed.

Gwen moved over to the table, retrieving a goblet of water and sipping it.

"You're getting better every time I watch," Merlin commented, following her.

"Leon is a good teacher," Gwen noted.

"Hm...And maybe more?"

Gwen's head snapped to him. "What do you mean?"

Merlin widened his eyes to indicate he intuited more than she thought.

Gwen sighed. "Don't tempt me, Merlin."

"Why not? There's nothing wrong with you loving someone besides Arthur."

"It may not be wrong, but I'm too old."

"I don't believe that," Merlin disagreed.

Gwen wiped her sweaty brow with a cloth. "I do."

"Gwen..."

"Let it go," she said stiffly, her eyes pleading with him.

"Alright."

"I mean it. If you try to get us alone somewhere..."

Merlin laughed. "I haven't done anything like that in decades."

"True. But I always have this feeling the Merlin I first met in the stocks is somewhere under your calm surface."

Merlin grinned. He hoped so. He'd grown up, but he didn't want to lose the connection to who he'd been.

* * *

Merlin opened the door to his chamber, glad to finally decompress from his journey.

"Merlin!"

Merlin groaned. A young tawny-headed man sat at his table, a quill in his hand, parchment before him. "Not now, Blaise."

"I want the story while it's fresh in your mind."

Merlin pointed to the door. "Out."

"Then when?" Blaise prompted.

"Let me at least rest for a time."

Blaise nodded succinctly, picking up his inkwell, quill, and parchments. "I'll be back in an hour." He scurried to the door and out.

Merlin dashed after him, locking the door. _Not if I can help it._ He didn't hate the young man. He was a good enough lad, but he had taken it upon himself to record all of Emrys' illustrious deeds. Gwen had proclaimed it a wonderful idea, but Merlin was sure part of her just loved watching him squirm as Blaise followed him around like a faithful dog.

Merlin stepped behind his dressing screen. He made to pull his arms out of his sleeved cloak, but stopped to assess himself in a mirror. He'd been on official business and wore his Pendragon tunic, red with a large golden dragon on the chest. He fingered his trimmed beard, noticing several white hairs. At least the hair on his head was still uniformly dark. He'd let it grow longer, now curling around his ears. He liked his appearance, even if it did make him look older than he felt. That was a good thing. He needed to inspire the magic warriors.

Merlin chuckled to himself. He remembered a time Carwyn had told him appearance made a difference. He guessed he'd finally bought into that philosophy. He stared into his eyes. They had changed, too, but not intentionally. He'd been startled the first time he beheld himself after he'd met his guilt head on and let it go—the blue was flecked with gold, as if his magic were constantly turned on. In effect, it was, simmering in the background ready for instant use.

Merlin undressed, changing into a simple shirt and pants outfit. He walked to his bed and sat down. Before he lay down, he lightly touched a silver necklace tacked to his bed post. He'd kept it there ever since his mother passed beyond the veil. He'd made it to Ealdor a day before she died and spent her last precious hours at her side. She'd passed the necklace on to him. He'd never seen it before—she'd kept it hidden all these years. Balinor had given it to her.

Merlin reached out and undid the clasp on the dangling pendant. The circular locket opened to reveal two miniature portraits of his parents. He thought of his mother pressing the locket into his hands. He'd never wept so much than when she closed her eyes and breathed her last. Not even when Arthur died.

He'd transported her body to the Lake of Avalon. He'd been surrounded by knights and warriors, Gwen and Carwyn next to him, as he set her boat adrift on the lake and lit it from the shore. She'd had a noble funeral befitting her love and devotion.

Merlin held out his hand and a figurine on his desk rose and floated to his hand. He stared at the carving of a dragon. This and the necklace were all he had of his parents. He lay back on the bed, clasping the carving and staring at the bed canopy.

Yes, time marched on. It brought age and death, but also new life. And he took great solace in Camelot's continuing Golden Age. Considering all things, he could be nothing but content.

* * *

A man swathed in a black cloak instructed two men in front of him. "You will not be paid until the job is complete."

One man nodded, the other answered. "Of course."

"If you fail, and you are not killed, you will answer to me."

Neither quailed. Good. He didn't like weaklings. "Go."

The men departed. Another figure in black spoke next to him. "You think they can do what you ask of them?"

The man laughed and shook his head. "No." Something had happened in the last six years. Emrys was stronger than he'd ever been. _But so am I_.

"Then why send them?"

"To distract him." _And warn him._ It was unfair not to give him at least a chance. He was too formidable a foe to be treated without respect.


	30. Judgment

"No...Stop...No...No!"

"Carwyn...Carwyn!"

Carwyn gasped as his eyes popped open. He tossed his head back and forth for a moment, eyes wide.

"A dream," came the drowsy voice of his wife.

Carwyn stared into the darkness. He felt a hand lay on his chest.

"You may not dream often, but they're vivid." Nyra yawned loudly.

Carwyn lay his hands over hers, controlling his rapid breathing.

"What was it?"

"Nothing."

"Carwyn..."

"Nothing," he repeated.

Nyra snorted her disapproval, but grasped one of his hands and placed it on her belly. "He's active."

"Could be a girl," Carwyn said quietly.

"Could be."

Carwyn felt a slight push and then a quick kick. The baby moved often, assurance that all was well. _All was well_...

Carwyn gulped. His dream _had_ been vivid, too vivid. He'd stood over a cradle looking down at a baby covered in blood, eyes rolling back in her head. He couldn't tell Nyra. She'd just chide him about his concern over her pregnancy. He couldn't help it. He knew too well his mother had lost four infants before him and he had barely survived. Without Merlin, he wouldn't have lived at all.

"Stop worrying, father," Nyra murmured.

Carwyn let a small smile play on his lips. She'd been calling him that ever since she figured out an heir was on the way.

Carwyn heard rustling and Nyra shifted. In the dim light afforded from the window, he saw her silhouette sit up, then crawl over to perch on top of him at his hips. He reached up and ran his hands over her belly under her nightgown. Nyra tried to lean down and kiss him, but it was too awkward. Carwyn sat up to reach her, kissing her over the impediment. When he drew back, he smiled.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he breathed out.

Nyra clasped her hands behind his head and pulled him in for another fervent kiss. "Nothing," she whispered. "Except being kind, handsome, wonderful, and just you."

Carwyn grasped her shoulders, sliding her down next to him and laying her head on his chest. "I love you."

Nyra grinned at their oft repeated exchange. "And I you."

"So...Merlin talked to you?" he tried to sound casual.

"Yes." Her tone became taut.

"I...eh...I already told the captains to take over the training."

Nyra pushed up in the bed. "You didn't ask _me_?"

"I thought Merlin would make it clear you shouldn't train the students."

Nyra huffed a breath and lay down hard on her pillow.

"What _did_ he say?"

"Told me to stop."

"Nyra..."

"I just can't sit around and do nothing."

"You aren't doing nothing. Our child is growing inside you."

"I _know_ ," she muttered. "I feel him all the time."

"Then...just...let him grow without being thrown about."

Nyra sighed loudly. "You won't let this go."

"No," Carwyn said firmly. "I've learned from you." A hint of laughter sounded in his last words.

Nyra did laugh. "I suppose you have. Then what _will_ I do?"

"Embroider with the court ladies?" His shoulder flared with the pain of a solid punch. "Ow." He rubbed at his shoulder. "I guess not, then."

He reached over and found one of her hands, linking his fingers with hers. "Enjoy a time of rest. We won't get much I hear, especially if you still think you should refuse a nursemaid."

"I won't let someone else take care of my child...Alright. I _won't_ train."

Another sharp pain rippled through Carwyn's shoulder. "Ow. Stop it!"

"That's for taking away the training."

Carwyn shook his head, but smiled. He had to pick the strongest girl he knew as a wife, didn't he?

* * *

 _Merlin shifted, angling closer to the warm body in front of him. He felt rough and yet supple lips press into his. His breath hitched as he drew back and opened his eyes. "Freya," he breathed out, meeting her dark eyed gaze._

 _"Merlin," she whispered. "I need you."_

 _Merlin's hands slipped around her waist. "I'm here."_

 _"Help me."_

 _"I will."_

 _"Promise."_

 _"I vow to you."_

 _A sudden bang ruined the moment and Merlin jumped, looking behind him at shadowy figures looming. He turned to defend the woman he loved..._

"Emrys? Merlin!"

Merlin moaned and opened his eyes to see Blaise's hazel gaze above him. His eyebrows crinkled. "Why are you in here?"

"You locked the door." Blaise didn't sound offended, stating only a fact.

"I wanted to rest."

"Well, you certainly have."

Merlin blew out a breath, annoyed. He'd been enjoying his dream. He hadn't thought of Freya in so much detail in a very long time. "How did you get in here?"

"Key."

Merlin sat up slowly, shaking out his hair. "You have a _key_?"

"I got it from Leon."

Merlin frowned and made a mental note to tell Leon not to go around letting people into his room, especially over eager scribes. "I'm not ready to tell you the story. It's insignificant anyway."

"I don't know," Blaise said, falling philosophical as he often did. "Sometimes what appears insignificant has the largest impact on history."

"Whatever is the case, I need more rest."

"You're late."

"What?"

"That's why I woke you. You slept all through the day and night, and you're late to instruction."

Merlin bolted out of bed, flinging himself behind his dressing screen and hastily throwing on a fresh set of clothing that wasn't rumpled. "Why didn't you tell me that first?"

"I'm not sure."

Merlin rolled his eyes. Blaise was one of the most insightful people he'd ever met, but also oblivious to social graces.

Merlin finished dressing, then grabbed a couple books from the table and left the room, hurrying as fast as he could without resorting to a dead run.

* * *

"Magic can be powerful, but you cannot always rely on it." Merlin's voice carried across the fields. Around twenty magic students sat in front of him, scattered and reclining however they liked. Although Carwyn had reserved part of the castle for exclusive use in teaching the magic warriors, Merlin opted every good day to take them outside where he considered magic strongest. Today was a spring day with pleasant breezes; not a day to be sequestered in castle walls.

Merlin scanned the faces looking at him. Whenever he was at Camelot, he took the most capable of the warriors under his wing, teaching them more complex spells and lecturing on various topics. These in front of him would soon be full warriors ready to join their growing army. He sighted the girl Muriel who'd been training in the yard yesterday. Nyra had moved her up as he suggested.

"We become used to magic. We assume it will always aid us. But it _can_ disappear." He noticed several students sit up straighter, intrigued. "I myself have been in situations where my spells were useless. Magical potions or objects can be used to take away your magic. Thus, you must be prepared to act without it."

Blaise was sitting cross-legged not that far from Merlin, nodding sagely. Merlin could guess he was remembering incidents he'd recorded that Merlin had recited to him like the magic chains that Morgause had restrained him in or the manacles of the octagonal prison. The scribe's book was still open, drying from his most recent writing. He didn't just record Merlin's history, but his spells as well.

For a brief moment, Merlin locked eyes with Blaise. The young man was obsessed with him. He'd been raised with stories of Emrys—his grandmother was a Druid. He himself knew only limited magic. He'd studied a bit, but his aptitude was weak, and his parents dissuaded him from continuing. Merlin wondered if it ever bothered Blaise that he spent his time recording a skill he wasn't good at.

"Your assignment," Merlin went on, looking back at the students, "is to go a week without using magic."

Some of the students gasped; all of them chattered. They shared surprised glances.

"And if you go a week, I challenge you to a month."

More muttering.

"If you trust me at all, hear me when I say such a thing will teach you more than my words ever could." Merlin clapped his hands once. "That's enough for today. You may report to training."

The students stood, chatting amongst themselves.

"They always hate that assignment," Blaise said as he closed his book and stood.

Merlin smiled widely. "Yes. But I think it's the best one of all."

"Me, too."

Merlin met Blaise's earnest eyes. "Blaise, do you ever wish you had more magic?"

Blaise twisted his lips thoughtfully. "Sometimes, I guess."

Merlin smiled softly at the young man's optimistic nature—there wasn't a hit of resentment in him. _I haven't been as kind to him as I could be_ , Merlin admitted to himself. He'd allowed his discomfort at Blaise's scribal mission to make him crotchety towards the boy. _Like Gaius was to me sometimes. I_ am _old._

"I could teach you," Merlin said as quickly as he could before he regretted it.

"You mean, I should join the magic warriors?" Blaise stated in amazement.

"Oh, no. I didn't mean that. I meant one on one. I could tutor you."

Blaise's eyes gleamed. "You'd do that?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Emrys!"

Merlin held back a laugh at the young man's exuberance. "We'll start tonight after dinner in my chambers."

"Yes. I'll be there!" Blaise walked off, the book hugged to his chest, a spring in his step.

"Emrys?"

Merlin turned to his side to see the young woman Muriel. "Yes?"

"Why would _not_ using magic ever be a good thing?"

Merlin considered her disturbed gaze. "As I said, magic can be taken from you."

"Not from you. Magic is part of you. You were born with it."

Merlin nodded, feeling even now magic churning inside him. "I suppose for me, my magic has been dampened more than anything else. Yet there are also creatures in this world that magic cannot defeat."

"Like what?"

"Dragons," he didn't add, _if you aren't a dragonlord,_ "Dorocha, Nathair."

"I suppose that's true." Her gaze remained troubled.

"What is it?" Merlin prompted. She didn't answer right away. "I don't consider any question worthless."

"It seems to me...dark magic is able to do more than you teach us."

Merlin stiffened, but controlled his expression. He _had_ implied any question was acceptable. Of course, she hadn't actually asked a question, but it was implied. "Magic is neutral," Merlin said. "It is the wielder who chooses to make it dark or light."

"But some spells aren't taught here."

"No. Because the heart behind them is always dark."

"What if you found yourself in a situation, and a dark spell could save you? Wouldn't it be acceptable to use it?"

Merlin laid a hand to his lips. He'd actually asked himself this before. Oh how easy it was to take a dark path, to choose to hurt to save. An image of a poisoned Morgana dying in his arms passed through his mind. "Such a thing can seem justified, but what does it do to your soul? How much easier is it to utilize darkness the time after?"

Muriel stared at him, then slowly nodded. "I understand."

As the student wandered away, Merlin thought of Morgana's corruption. Her hatred of Uther had been justified, but her actions to stop him had destroyed her. He could never think of her without wishing she'd chosen a different path.

* * *

Carwyn paced up and down outside the dining hall. He reached up to lift his crown and scratch under it. Ugh. He hated wearing the thing. It felt confining. He sighed. He'd have to get used to it. Someday he'd sit on the throne as king, but at least that day was a long way off.

Merlin appeared, dressed in his red Pendragon tunic. "Are they assembled?"

Carwyn nodded. "We're waiting for you."

Merlin pressed his lips together grimly.

"It's never pleasant," Carwyn said sympathetically.

Merlin nodded in agreement. He hated judging one of his own because when it all came down to it, his decision was what mattered. Gwen would ask Carwyn his advice, but she'd defer to Merlin's decision, and even if the punishment was right, Merlin's heart would sink to see another of his kind led to the noose.

Carwyn put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. Merlin smiled at him in gratefulness. The prince laid a hand to the door and pushed it open. They entered a room assembled for trial. A throne at the far end contained Gwen, already seated and waiting. She looked regal and stern, even a bit severe. Merlin had always been amazed how his sweet Gwen could look so very scary sometimes. Carwyn took the high-backed chair to Gwen's right and Merlin the one to her left. She nodded to each of them in turn, then spoke commandingly.

"Bring the prisoner."

Joris, chained hand and foot, was led through the door, shuffling towards them. For a moment, Merlin glanced to the side at the members of the court observing. He'd stood there many times watching proceedings like these. That destiny put him now in the place of judge struck him as extraordinary.

"Joris," Gwen greeted in monotone.

Merlin turned his attention to the sorcerer. His eyes darted back and forth, then landed on Gwen.

"You are accused of using dark magic in the murder of a girl by the name of Kathrine."

"Isn't true," Joris mumbled.

"You will only speak when asked a direct question," Gwen instructed. "The witnesses may approach."

Two men and a woman came forward, simple folk by their dress.

"Meles, you found the girl?" Gwen asked, her tone now gentle.

"Yes, your highness," one of the men answered.

"Tell us what you saw."

Meles swallowed nervously. "She was layin' behind her house. Her dress'd been torn up an' her stomach...it'd been gutted like an animal."

An unwilling image of the girl passed through Merlin's mind. He'd seen more than one corpse like this since the book appeared.

"Go on." Gwen's voice was taut with anger.

"Her intestines, they'd been dragged out and arranged aroun' her body. An' there was a bowl next to her with...her blood in it. She was pale, like there wasn't a drop left in her...That's what I saw."

Gwen nodded to him and turned her gaze to the next witness, the woman. "Sofie, you saw this man Joris leaving Katherine's home?"

The woman nodded once. "Yes, your highness. I'd come to get some herbs for my boy. He was sick that night. She wasn't inside, so I went to look for her. I...think he might've heard my steps because he came flying from behind the house."

"You did not see Katherine?"

"No, my lady. I didn't go behind the house. I walked after Joris to see where he'd gone in such a hurry. My boy was there. He'd come looking for me, so I went back home."

Gwen looked to the last witness. "Noll, what did you see?"

"Joris, my lady. He was running up the lane. I called out to ask what was wrong an' he stopped and stared. His eyes were wild. He had blood all over his shirt, said he'd just killed an animal an' wandered off." Noll fell silent.

Gwen met the eyes of each witness. "I thank you for your presence in our court."

The witnesses withdrew to the side, looking relieved to have their part in this grisly affair over with. Merlin only wished he could have joined them. He'd been observing Joris during the witness accounts. The man had a bowed head, his expression unreadable. Merlin had glanced at Carwyn and seen his hands gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Merlin?" Gwen prompted.

Merlin took a deep breath. "Joris...did you do this?"

Joris looked up, his eyes defiant. "No."

"When I first spoke to you, you said you didn't mean to hurt anyone. Why did you say that?"

Joris gulped visibly, his eyes shifting to Gwen, then back to Merlin. "I...don't know."

"You owned a copy of the book entitled _The Retribution of Camelot_."

"Maybe."

"I retrieved one from the shelf in your shack."

Joris looked guiltily to the side.

"Did you use the book on Katherine with the intent to create a wraith under your control?"

"No." The man's voice was almost inaudible.

"Why did you do this?" Carwyn had interrupted, his tone harsh and angry.

Joris ground his jaw for a moment, then his tongue unleashed. "Because you don't deserve the throne!" He glared at Gwen. "Your sorcerer puppet chooses what magic is good and what is evil, and you kill any you deem unworthy to live!" The man's chest rose and fell rapidly.

Gwen looked to Merlin, their thoughts clear in their gazes. What was there to discuss? The man had admitted his guilt, and the evidence from the witnesses compounded it.

Gwen looked back to Joris. "Joris, you are guilty of the use of dark magic and murder. You will be executed forthwith."

The guards directed the man toward the door, but he shouted as he went. "You'll see! He'll get you. Some day you will fall for what you've done to us!"

Gwen dismissed the court and stood wearily. Merlin stepped to her side to take her arm. Carwyn rose from his seat, still scowling at the door Joris had left from.

"I don't want to go out there," Gwen murmured.

"I do," Carwyn asserted. "He deserves to be cut off from the living."

Gwen laid a hand on her son's arm. "I've seen enough death in my lifetime."

Carwyn looked on her compassionately. "I'm sorry, mother."

Merlin escorted Gwen to the balcony, followed by Carwyn. They stood beside each other as Joris was brought out, and the noose fastened around his neck.

Merlin stared at Joris' defiant posture, straight, head held high. He'd believed the book's lies. The book contained a systematic explanation of the Pendragon attempt to silence avenues of magic they didn't approve of. It claimed a second purge had been initiated and at its root was Emrys. Magic wasn't free, but oppressed. True freedom was unlimited. Only through the destruction of Emrys and the royal family would Camelot ever be truly free for magic wielders.

After the treatise in the book, several spells and rituals followed, dark and evil and each claiming to have a greater purpose. Creating a wraith was supposed to make an undead warrior capable of joining the cause against the Pendragons. But Merlin suspected Joris hadn't meant much more than to make an undead slave he could twist to his will.

The trapdoor sprung; Joris' neck snapped. Gwen had looked away; Carwyn's face was triumphant. Merlin stared at the swinging body. Sometimes he hated he'd lived so long.


	31. Prophecy

"Aalef!" Nyra careened down the entrance steps and threw herself into her brother's arms.

Carwyn followed, beaming. Aalef's entourage was smaller than usual—his wife, her children, a few friends. The first few times they'd visited had been tense; there were those in Camelot who were still wary of a wandering people who kept to themselves. This time, however, the castle had been abuzz with the joyous information the Druids were returning. Many had made friends of them.

Aalef kissed his sister on the forehead, then pushed her back to look at her. His eyes scanned her belly. "Soon," he said, smiling.

Nyra nodded. "He kicks and kicks. I think he's ready to meet the world."

"Carwyn!" Aalef called out as the prince met him, holding out his arm to grip wrists.

"Welcome, again, friend."

Aalef pointed to his head. "Wearing your crown. A little official for us, don't you think?"

Carwyn laughed. "Mother insists I wear it whenever guests show up. I think she wants me to act like a king or something."

Aalef clapped him on the shoulder. "You will be. And a fine one."

Carwyn shared a grin with his brother-in-law.

Aalef looked at the steps and the various people that had come to meet them. "Where's Emrys?"

"He's not at the castle now," Nyra said. "He's out with his new protege."

"He'll be back for the feast tonight," Carwyn assured. "Now, come, let's get you settled and have some wine."

* * *

"I don't sense anything."

Merlin tried to keep consternation out of his gaze. Teaching Blaise had been slow going. He'd started to understand why Blaise's parents hadn't encouraged him to continue to study magic. "Just close your eyes. Reach out to every living thing around you."

Blaise did as Merlin said, breathing rhythmically. "Maybe, there's a hint of something. A..eh..."

"Vibration." That was the best way Merlin had always found to describe it.

"Yes."

"Hold on to whatever you sense, then look at the stick."

Blaise opened his eyes. His brow was creased in concentration. He peered at a stick lying on the ground. It began to rise in the air.

"Good," Merlin encouraged. "Now, the next one."

Another stick barely floated off the ground, then both abruptly fell. Blaise breathed quickly in and out like he'd been running a race. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"You don't have to keep apologizing." Merlin felt for the lad. He was trying so hard like always, but he'd accomplished little. Merlin decided to give him break and let him do something he _was_ good at. "I want to tell you a story."

Blaise eagerly unbuckled his bag and withdrew his recording book. He perched on a rock, dipping a quill in ink and looking at Merlin expectantly. "Which story?"

Merlin paced back and forth. "One I've never told anyone. How I became Emrys."

Blaise cocked his head. "You've always been Emrys."

"In a sense, but I don't think I ever really embraced who I was until I came back from the dark prison."

Blaise nodded at him to encourage him to speak on.

Merlin launched into the story. He hadn't ever shared what happened in his mossy hideaway in Ealdor. Carwyn knew something had happened, but Merlin thought he mainly assumed his list of Merlin's good deeds had released him from guilt. They had, but it went deeper than that.

Merlin recounted stepping into the water, letting his magic fill it, and confessing each error of his life. As he spoke, he gauged Blaise for his reaction. Blaise's expression didn't waver, but his eyebrows lifted here and there. When Merlin finished, the young man peered up at him.

"You never told me you poisoned Morgana."

"No."

"When?"

Merlin sighed. In truth, no recording of his life would be complete without his failure. "When the Knights of Medhir attacked Camelot."

"You said Morgause called off the attack and took Morgana away."

"She did, but she did that because Morgana was the vessel for the curse, and I had poisoned her."

"I'll have to go back and amend that story."

"I suppose."

"It's alright, Emrys. I don't think anyone would blame you for doing that."

"Even so, it didn't make it right."

"I don't know," Blaise said thoughtfully, and Merlin sensed another philosophical rumination coming on.

"No, Blaise. It _was_ wrong. I spent too long trying to talk myself out of my culpability with that one." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, let's try the spell again."

Blaise stood up, took several deep breaths and looked at the sticks. As he did so, the hairs on the back of Merlin's neck rose. He tilted his head and frowned. He sensed something...someone near by. He glanced around the woods. He sent his sight out in several different directions, but nothing appeared.

"Emrys! Look!"

Merlin turned to see both sticks floating parallel to one another. "Well done," he complimented, but he stared into the woods, unsure what had spooked him.

* * *

Merlin dressed in his best shirt and trousers for the nighttime feast. He made his way to the banquet hall. He was a little late. He'd spent all afternoon with Blaise and after he'd released him he'd scoured the woods himself, searching for something that alluded him. He finally gave up and returned to the castle for a short rest before the night's festivities.

When he reached the hall, Merlin slipped inside. He made his way to the head table and his seat next to Gwen. She smiled at him, but seemed more tired than usual. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "You alright?"

"A little sad," she admitted.

Merlin picked at a chicken breast and chewed. He swallowed. "Why?"

"Arthur," she whispered.

Merlin empathized. Most of the time he moved along at a smooth pace, and then something would come to mind and his heart would ache. Sometimes he found himself wondering what Arthur would look like if he lived, what age would have brought to his friend, what conversations they might have had.

"I wish he could have seen all of this."

Merlin followed her eyes. Dancing had begun in the middle of the room. When the Druids came, there was always dancing. Carwyn had his hand in Nyra's and they were weaving in and out of horizontal lines. He was sure the other court ladies would sneer at Nyra's activity, being with child. Most of them sequestered themselves in their rooms for almost the entire duration.

 _You're going to be a grandfather, Arthur,_ Merlin thought, and now his heart did ache and tears he hadn't cried in a long while brimmed in his eyes. He coughed, and wiped at his eyes.

"Emrys," a voice greeted. Merlin turned to his side to behold Aalef.

"Aalef!" He stood, taking the man's wrist in greeting.

"I thought I might get you alone for a moment." The Druid's voice had lowered and his usual content gaze sobered.

"Certainly." Merlin gestured to the doors and left with Druid. He followed Aalef who finally paused in a small alcove. Merlin slid in across from him. "What is it?"

"I have a message for you from Rewi."

Merlin hadn't ever met the Druid seer, but knew about her part in his rescue.

"She would have come herself, but she is very old now. I wonder how she keeps living."

Merlin smiled slightly. "What did she want to tell me?"

Aalef took a breath. "That a time of darkness is coming."

Merlin put a hand to his lips.

"She says the dark is gathering strength and Camelot will soon face a test."

"What test?" Merlin's heart pattered uncomfortably.

"A test to determine the quality of its magic."

Merlin ran a finger over his lips. "I hate seers." His tone was light and Aalef laughed.

"They never speak with clarity."

"Rarely, anyway. Is that all she said?"

Aalef nodded. "She said you'd understand. Do you?"

"A little," Merlin said, leaning his head back against the wall of the alcove. "With _The Retribution of Camelot_ appearing all over, we've seen dark magic on the rise. I've long feared someone is behind it, stirring up dark wielders."

"Why?"

"Have you read the book?"

"I've heard of it. Never seen it."

"They blame the Pendragons, and mainly me, for restricting magic. They say it's a second purge." Merlin spoke with disgust. That such a thing would be applied to him chafed after all he had done to bring magic to fruition in Camelot.

"So you think it will come to a head? Light against dark."

Merlin laughed grimly. "When you say it that way it sounds like some cosmic inevitability. I think it's a bit dramatic."

Aalef smiled. "I hope that's true."

"Me, too."

* * *

Merlin retired that night, his mind disturbed. He changed into his night clothes, ran a hand over his mother's locket as he always did before going to bed, and lay back, his eyes open, unable to sleep. A gathering darkness. What was it? When would it come? Could he avert it?

Merlin let out a frustrated breath. He couldn't escape the burden of the future even when he _did_ avoid the Crystal Cave. He was tired of visions and warnings. What was he supposed to do with them? He'd tried to stop Arthur from dying, and everything he did either moved closer to it or was useless in preventing it. Why did seers insist on telling him things he couldn't stop?

Merlin rolled onto his side. There were always threats, even in a Golden Age. He felt tossed about on a wild ocean, unable to find direction to safety. If he took action, it could cause chaos. If he didn't take action, he might let the worst come to be. He sighed. He knew what he was going to do.

Long ago, when he'd left his hidden sanctuary in Ealdor after releasing himself from his past, he'd come to a conclusion: worrying over prophecy didn't accomplish much. The best he could do was prepare and react when the time came. He'd keep training the magic warriors and if the dark did decide to rear its ugly head, they'd meet it with all their strength.

* * *

Carwyn smiled as he carried Nyra back to their chambers. She had fallen asleep in her chair and he had been unable to stir her. He laid her gently on the bed. He rested his hands on her belly for a moment, waiting for that telltale kick. When it didn't come after a while, he chuckled. "Guess you're asleep, too."

Carwyn removed the crown from his head and placed it on the table, then moved to his wardrobe. He massaged his scalp, glad to be free from the crown, then he undressed, throwing on his night clothes. He wandered over to the window, looking out on a night lit by the full moon. It had been a good night, a release after the tension of the most recent trial.

Carwyn rubbed at his temples. Sometimes he wished fate hadn't made him King Arthur's heir. These days he was so burdened with the continual concerns of his people and affairs of state. He didn't think he excelled at any of it. He'd rather spend his time traipsing around outside with Merlin like they used to.

Carwyn let his gaze run over the fields and the forest in the distance. That's it, he decided. Tomorrow he'd drag Merlin out for a hunting trip. His guardian never argued about hunting trips now. Carwyn suspected Merlin enjoyed the time alone together as much as he did.

Nyra coughed. Carwyn turned his head, watching her roll back and forth. He returned to the bed and leaned down to kiss her back to sleep. He stalled. Something dribbled down her chin. He reached down to wipe it away. It was sticky. "Leoht." A light popped into Carwyn's hand. He held it up to his wife's face. A yellow liquid seeped from her mouth.

"Nyra?" Carwyn asked in alarm. His light extinguished as he gripped her shoulders. "Nyra! Wake up!" Nyra's head lolled in his grip.

Carwyn jerked his gaze to her belly. The child hadn't been moving. _No, no. No!_ Carwyn gathered Nyra in his arms, rushed to the door, kicked it open, and sprinted down the hall.

* * *

"Merlin! Merlin! Wake up!"

Merlin shook his head as he sat up, rubbing at his tired eyes. What time was it? It was still dark. He rose and stumbled to his door, unlocking it and opening it. The eyes of a terrified servant met him. "Yes?" he yawned.

"The prince's wife. She's sick."

"Nyra?"

"The prince asks for you to come to the physician's chamber immediately."

"Yes, of course, I'll be there," Merlin stuttered. He moved back into his room, meaning to dress, then turned. Carwyn wouldn't care if he was in his nightshirt or not.

Merlin hurried down empty halls, making his way to a room that held more memory than any other. He sighted the door to what he still thought of as Gaius' chambers, though they had been someone else's for years. He let himself in and beheld a heart-wrenching scene.

Carwyn leaned over Nyra laid in a cot, his face streaked with tears. Reynfrey had his hands on her head, his eyes closed. Merlin rushed over to them. Nyra's face was pale and a yellow substance had dried from her lips to her chin. "What happened?"

Reynfrey's eyes snapped open. "Poison."

"Poison?" Merlin asked.

Carwyn's hand gripped his wrist. Merlin met his panicked eyes. "Save them!"

Merlin placed his hands on Nyra's belly. He closed his eyes, sensing the child. His mind was thrown back years ago, when he'd saved Carwyn. Just as then, the infant's life was fading. Merlin's eyes popped open. "Reynfrey, can she deliver?"

"In this state? No. She'll die."

A sob welled up in Carwyn's throat as he cradled Nyra's head. Merlin fought back his own tears. His face became stony. "What poison is it?"

"I'm not certain. I've tried all the spells I know."

Merlin pushed the magic physician back. "Move." He leaned over Nyra, pressing his hands into her collar bone. He closed his eyes again, flared his magic, and pushed it through the Druid's body. He felt a dark tingling deep in her stomach. He followed it as it seeped through her veins and in and out of her heart. Merlin's hands shook. He could do this. He had to.

Merlin moved his hands to Nyra's belly. The poison was in the infant. He grit his teeth and pushed at the poison. It barely moved. Merlin steeled himself. He drew on all the magic in the room, but he was Emrys. He senses now went farther. He drew on the life in the castle, the life in the town, the life in the surrounding fields. He let it all fill him until he fairly burst with magic tension, then pushed mightily. The poison fled from the infant as if it were a stag being hunted down.

Merlin stiffened as he followed the poison's retreat, pushing until it backtracked through Nyra's veins and heart to her stomach. The poison gathered within, threatening to kill the Druid. _Never_. Merlin tightened his hands on Nyra, drawing the poison up through her skin and into his hands. He shook as he pulled it into himself. It burned along his arms, into his chest, embraced his heart. He dropped his hands and collapsed, writhing on the ground.

"Merlin!" he heard Carwyn cry. "Help him!"

Merlin felt Reynfrey's hands on his chest.

"What's happening?"

Reynfrey spoke in awe. "He took the poison into himself."

Merlin heard a weak muted voice. Nyra. "Carwyn?"

"Merlin," Reynfrey said.

Merlin saw only darkness, the poison manifesting itself visually as he traced it through his body. It built up at a fevered pace. He couldn't keep up with it. He hadn't thought he'd die this way, but all things considered, it was a good reason to go. He ceased fighting and let the poison win.


	32. Suspicion

Merlin felt stiff as a poker. His hands were clenched in tight fists, his eyes squeezed shut. He took a shuddering breath and gradually relaxed.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned his head to the voice on his left. "Yes?"

"I can't believe it."

Merlin forced his eyes open. Reynfrey sat next to him on a stool, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're alive."

Merlin turned his head back and forth. He was in his old room off Gaius' chambers. He smiled to himself. He hadn't been in this position in over twenty years.

"How?"

Merlin pushed up on his elbows. "How what?"

"How are you alive and looking like you didn't just come back from the brink of death?" Reynfrey marveled.

Merlin sat up, swinging his feet over the bed. _Poison._ "Nyra. Is she alright?"

Reynfrey nodded. "You saved her. You drew the poison out of her into yourself."

Merlin massaged the back of his neck. He felt a little sore, but otherwise no worse for wear. "I remember."

"You should be dead!" Reynfrey exclaimed. "When you fell over, I tried to heal you, but...the poison vanished."

Merlin ran a hand over his forehead. "I don't know what I did," he murmured.

"Merlin!" Carwyn had appeared, taking the steps to the bedroom two at a time. He grasped Merlin's shoulders. "You're alright." His eyes filled with tears.

Merlin smiled up at the prince. Carwyn was rarely emotional, but this night had broken down his defenses.

"You saved her. She's going to live. And the baby is kicking again." Carwyn pulled Merlin to his feet and embraced him.

Merlin hugged him back. Carwyn let go. "Come and see." Merlin followed him into the main room where Nyra lay on her side on the cot, her hand covering her belly.

"Emrys," she whispered, holding out her other hand.

Merlin took her hand, crouching down next to the cot.

"Thank you." Even Nyra's eyes were moist.

"I'm not going to lose my daughter-in-law or my grandchild," Merlin assured her.

Carwyn knelt down next to his wife, clasping her shoulder and leaning in to kiss her gently. "Nyra, if I lost you..."

"You didn't," she strained out.

Carwyn looked up at Reynfrey. "Can you keep her here? Watch over her?"

"I will."

"Good." Carwyn looked back at Nyra. "I need to go. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Nyra nodded sleepily.

"I'll make sure she rests," Reynfrey said.

Carwyn nodded to him and stood, moving to the door. Merlin followed him, grasping his shoulder to stop him for a moment. "Where are you going?"

Carwyn turned and the raging fury in his expression was something Merlin had never seen before. "To tell my mother what happened and find the person who did this."

* * *

As Merlin followed Carwyn down castle hallways, his mind was less on who had poisoned Nyra and more on his own survival. He had suspected for some time something was off about himself. He had grown old, but he didn't feel old, not physically. He seemed to have a knack for not getting sick. A night's rest for him often went farther than it did for others.

As he'd pondered these things, he'd recalled what his father had told him in the Crystal Cave: _Believe, Merlin. Believe what your heart knows to be true. That you have always been, and always will be._

He'd hesitated to acknowledge the word that hovered on the edge of his mind, but let it come to fruition now: _immortal_. It sounded ridiculous as he thought it, but could it be true? _Always will be._ What could that mean but immortality? It would fit all the evidence of how he felt, how everything had changed when he had fully embraced being Emrys.

And Arthur. Kilgharrah had said he would rise again. He'd at first assumed that meant in his own lifetime. He had placed much of his hope on seeing Arthur again before he died. But what if it meant some time far in the future he couldn't even comprehend? Such thoughts had devastated him. To never see Arthur rise.

But they were two sides of a coin. Although he lived now as a whole, maybe the analogy still held. Maybe he was still one side of a coin and maybe, just maybe, his own life tethered Arthur to the world. Maybe as long as he lived, Arthur could return.

The thought sent shivers down Merlin's spine. If Arthur's return depended on his survival, he had better care more about himself. And yet, he hadn't died. The poison had been unable to kill him. It was another piece of evidence, a link in a chain that led to support for his immortality.

 _Yet, I age._ That was the one objection blocking his logic. If he was immortal, he would assume he stopped aging at the Crystal Cave at least, or maybe when he left his hideaway six years ago.

Merlin's thoughts were interrupted when they reached Gwen's room and Carwyn banged forcefully on her door. He let go his speculations and turned his attention to the prince seething with anger.

"She doesn't know anything yet," Merlin warned. "Calm down."

Carwyn shot him a withering gaze, but took a deep breath.

The door opened. Gwen stared at each of them in turn. "Something's wrong."

"Nyra was poisoned," Carwyn declared without preamble.

"What?"

Gwen's door swung wide open as she stepped into the hall. "Where is she?"

"In Gai...Reynfrey's chambers," Merlin said. "She's alright."

"Merlin saved her," Carwyn stated succinctly.

"Let me get dressed," Gwen said, turning, but Carwyn grabbed her arm.

"I want all the servants awoken. All their quarters searched. I want a list of all the guests."

Gwen rubbed at an eye. "It's the dead of night."

"We have no time to lose!" Carwyn shouted. Merlin put a hand on his arm, but Carwyn pushed it away. "Someone tried to kill my wife! I want him found!"

Gwen looked to Merlin. How many times had they been in a position like this, a crisis in the castle? They knew better than Carwyn the time it would take to investigate the matter.

"Aiora has the list of guests," Gwen said. "Let the servants sleep until morning."

"Mother..."

"Carwyn, I do not believe any of them would harm us. Most of them I have known since I took the throne, and every new servant has been personally approved of by the council."

"You don't know if any of them have lied to you," Carwyn protested.

"If someone has poisoned Nyra, I doubt they would stay inside the castle to be found, or if it is someone we trust, they would have disposed of anything that might implicate them. Nothing is to be gained by it right now." Merlin heard Gwen's queenly tone, the one that proclaimed her experience as a monarch. Her calm and poise added to the impression, though Merlin guessed inside her gut churned the same as his.

"Are you just going to let him get away?"

"No," Gwen said, moving into her room to retrieve a robe and pull it over her nightgown. She came back to the door. "I'm going to find a servant and wake Leon. I will have knights posted at every occupied door. In the morning, we will systematically question them all."

Carwyn's eyes blinked in surprise.

"Your mother is wise, Carwyn, and understands the situation," Merlin encouraged.

Carwyn ran a hand through his hair.

"Now, I want to see my daughter-in-law," Gwen insisted. "Take me to her."

* * *

The following day was long and arduous. Magic teaching and training was canceled as every person in the castle was interviewed, those in attendance at the feast the most scrutinized. Merlin attended many of them. He had never seen Carwyn so fierce. More than once he tried to warn the boy to stop yelling at terrified suspects. His words did little to curtail Carwyn's behavior.

Merlin finally excused himself to go visit Nyra. He found Gwen at her side again. "How is she?"

"She rests well," Gwen answered. She held the sleeping Druid's hand. "Reynfrey is a skilled physician."

Reynfrey looked up from a table where he'd been preparing a potion. "I've simply aided her recuperation. It's Merlin who deserves any praise."

Gwen looked to Merlin. "How many times have you saved the Pendragons?"

Merlin smiled softly. "Ask Carwyn. He's counted."

"Add one more then," Gwen said. She held out her other hand to him and he took it. "Dear Merlin. And you've done most it without thought for yourself."

Merlin sighed. "When I first came to Camelot, all I wanted was recognition from someone other than Gaius. I think in my youth, I wanted someone to just acknowledge my magic was worth something. But over time, it didn't matter anymore. I guess I got used to working behind the scenes."

"I wish I'd known about your magic," Gwen mused. "I wish I could have been a confidant. A better friend to you."

Merlin squeezed her hand. "I wanted to tell you so many times, but...it's not that I didn't trust you, I just..."

"The fewer who knew, the better."

Merlin nodded.

"I understand. And anyway, you did finally tell me."

"After you guessed," Merlin smiled.

Gwen smiled back, let go his hand, and stood. "Can you walk with me?"

Merlin gestured to his side. He expected Gwen to descend the spiral staircase at the end of the hall outside the physician's chambers, but she climbed upwards. He followed her to a wooden door and through it onto the circular roof lined with a parapet. Gwen sat down, her knees pulled into her chest. Merlin sank down next to her, echoing her posture.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

"Carwyn. What's happened is tearing him apart."

"He almost lost the person he loves more than any in the world," Merlin said quietly. "You know how that feels."

"Yes," Gwen whispered.

Merlin had managed to keep the quiver out of his voice. He knew how it felt, too.

"Still, he's so angry. I don't know if he can be in any way objective. Can you talk to him? He often listens to you more than me."

"I will," Merlin consented. Gwen leaned into his shoulder as she often did, and he draped his arm around her. For a few moments, they didn't move, cherishing a rare time of silence and undisturbed peace.

* * *

Merlin found Carwyn finishing an interview with a lowly stable hand, though he was growling out questions as if the man were the worst of criminals. The poor trembling man passed Merlin when he was dismissed, terror in his eyes. Merlin approached Carwyn.

"Take a break," he advised.

"I'm alright," Carwyn objected.

"You haven't slept in a day. Rest."

"No," Carwyn returned. "There are too many left to talk to."

Merlin drew himself up to his height and gripped Carwyn by the upper arm. "You are taking a break." Carwyn tried to wrench out of Merlin's grasp, but the warlock pulled him along, letting magic pulse through his body to increase the strength of his hold.

"Merlin!"

"Stop struggling and I'll let go."

"Fine!" Carwyn relaxed and Merlin released his arm.

"Follow me."

Carwyn let out a sharp breath, but obeyed.

Merlin led him to the battlements, pausing to lean against the wall and look out at the view. "Come."

Carwyn moved up to his side but faced the other way towards the castle.

"Your mother wants me to talk to you."

"Why?"

"You're too angry."

"Isn't that how I _should_ feel?"

"Yes," Merlin said, "but you can't let that control you, not when you need to make sound judgments. This is a serious charge and whoever you discover has done it will be executed."

"I know that."

"I don't think you do," Merlin argued, pushing off the battlements to face Carwyn squarely, his arms crossed over his chest. "You hold the life of every person who comes before you in your hands. Each of them know you have the power to kill them. You have to be careful. You treat them like criminals already and they'll fear their future king, not respect him."

"How can you know what I'm supposed to do?" Carwyn shouted. "You've never had to face being king."

Merlin drew in a deep breath. "I know because I watched your father struggle. I watched him weigh his own desires against the good of his kingdom. At times he made choices that about destroyed him, because justice was what mattered to him. Not personal vendetta, but fairness. You're his son. You can be just as well."

To Merlin's surprise, a tear slid down Carwyn's cheek. "She almost died. And the baby."

Merlin gripped Carwyn's arm. "They're here and alive."

Carwyn's voice quavered. "I had a dream. I saw our child, bloodied and dying. It was so real."

Merlin's heart twisted. "Carwyn...it was only a dream."

"What if whoever did this won't rest until our heir is dead?"

"You don't know that. You'll kill yourself worrying about that."

Carwyn put a hand to his throat, choking back a sob.

"I won't let it happen. Do you hear me? Your child is safe. Nyra is safe. We'll keep someone with her at all times. You _will not_ lose them."

* * *

Merlin spent the rest of the day with Carwyn. The interviews turned up nothing, but the list hadn't been exhausted. Merlin excused himself to dinner and bed, but Carwyn elected to stay up a little longer, going over the lists and thinking about the interviews.

Merlin pushed open his door, tired in body and mind. He moved to his dressing screen, then stopped. He turned to his table. Where was Blaise? The boy was always waiting for him at the end of the day when momentous events took place. He hadn't seen him all day.

Merlin left his rooms. Blaise hadn't been interviewed. Maybe he was still sequestered in his room until his questioning. When Merlin reached Blaise's room he saw no soldier or knight guarding the door. He entered.

"Blaise?"

The room was dark. Merlin's eyes flashed gold and several candles lit. Merlin turned slowly, taking in the room. Nothing looked out of place, except...he strode to the bed. It hadn't been slept in. He knew Blaise never made his bed, and he also knew it wasn't the day for linens to be changed. Blaise didn't have a servant anyway. No one would have been in to care about the state of the bed.

Merlin left Blaise's room, suspicion growing. But, no. He knew Blaise. Blaise was sincere. Merlin had never sensed anything untoward in him. Yet he _had_ offered his services, inserting himself into the royal household.

Merlin's chest ached. There couldn't be another spy in Camelot. Betrayal after betrayal. This couldn't be happening again. He wouldn't believe it until it was proved.

When Merlin reached his chambers, he met Carwyn running down the hall. "Merlin! I know who poisoned her. I want you along for the arrest."


	33. Accusation

Merlin replied hesitantly to Carwyn's declaration. "Blaise isn't in his chamber."

Carwyn creased his brow. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. Carwyn, I don't think..."

"We can worry about him later. I want to carry out the arrest immediately."

Merlin let out a breath of relief. Carwyn wasn't looking for Blaise. He walked parallel to the prince as Carwyn strode back down the hall. "Who is it?"

"A woman. She's staying in an inn in the city."

"How are you certain she's the poisoner?"

"She wasn't on the list."

Merlin tilted his head. "Then how do you know?"

"Because Patricia was sick. Several servants told me that. And you know when that happens, they often get someone to fill in for them. I asked Patricia, and she said a woman had been hanging outside the castle hoping for work."

"That doesn't mean she poisoned Nyra."

"Marcus reported the woman served my wife," Carwyn said, referring to the servant who organized all guests and banquets.

"That still doesn't mean..."

"Merlin! I know it's her." Merlin heard the barely controlled fury in Carwyn's voice.

"You can't arrest her without evidence," Merlin argued.

"That's why we're going to the inn. To prove it." Carwyn picked up his pace. Merlin kept next to him. He wanted to find the person who poisoned Nyra as much as the prince, but he wanted it to be the _right_ person.

Merlin glanced to his side. He hated arguing with Carwyn. They hardly ever conflicted. Even so, he had to stand his ground. The boy was still had so much to learn. _Like Arthur did._ Merlin smiled at the memory. He needed to be patient, just as he had been with Arthur.

* * *

Carwyn gathered several magic warriors, including Droyn and Moeris. Merlin took his place at Carwyn's side as they approached the inn. A few windows were lit dimly. Carwyn threw open the door to the inn. A podgy man was cleaning downstairs and stared wide eyed when they entered. "Prince Carwyn! Sire!"

"You have a woman staying with you named Iona."

"Yes, sire. She's staying in the room at the back upstairs."

Carwyn moved to the stairs.

"She's not there right now, sire."

Carwyn stalled. "What do you mean?"

"She's been out since midday."

Carwyn's face grew even more clouded with anger. He took the stairs two steps at a time, found the room, and flung open its door. "Search!"

Merlin stepped into the room, scanning it. It was a common enough room for an inn. The warriors didn't have long to search.

"Sire!" Droyn held up a bottle in his hand with a skull marking it.

Carwyn snatched the empty bottle from Droyn's hand. "Evidence," he growled at Merlin.

"Sire!" The innkeeper had appeared. "She's returned. She's coming now."

Carwyn bolted into the hallway. Merlin heard a strangled cried and dashed after him. The prince had thrown a woman into the wall and held his arm across her neck. Merlin stared, disbelieving.

It couldn't be. _Freya._ Merlin shook his head to clear it, then scrutinized the woman. Her eyes were dark, her hair rich chestnut, her face so closely resembling the girl he had loved. Yet, she was younger than Freya would have been now, at least late middle age, but still, the effect of her resemblance struck him to the heart.

Merlin's dream of a few days ago came back to him—holding Freya, kissing her, his promise to help her as shadowy figures bore down on her. Was this destiny again? What was it trying to tell him?

"Did you poison my wife?" Carwyn shouted at the woman.

Merlin stepped up to the prince. "Let her go."

"She tried to kill Nyra!" Carwyn shouted. He pressed his arm further into the woman's neck.

Merlin reached out and pulled his arm forcefully back. "This isn't justice."

Carwyn let out a frustrated cry, and let the woman go. She slid down the wall, her hand on her throat, regaining her breath. Merlin crouched down next to her. "Iona?"

The woman looked up. Merlin's heart thumped wildly. "Did you poison the prince's wife?"

"Poison?" the woman asked.

Merlin heard innocence in her voice. He looked to Carwyn. "Carwyn, this woman..."

"Arrest her!" Carwyn commanded.

"Carwyn!" Merlin shouted, standing.

The woman was hauled to her feet, chained at the wrists, and escorted from the inn by two warriors, Carwyn stalking after them.

* * *

Merlin followed behind the warriors, trudging alone with his thoughts in a whirl. _She's not Freya_ , he told himself. But if she wasn't Freya, who was she? How did she look so like the girl he still loved after all these years?

When they reached the castle, Carwyn commanded a servant to call his mother to the throne room. He took charge of the woman himself, dragging her down the hall and flinging her to the floor in front of the throne. He paced back and forth in front of her. "You served at the feast last night."

The woman gulped. "Yes...sire."

Merlin walked slowly to the throne, laying a hand on its back, staring at the woman. _Who are you?_

"You poured a drink for my wife?"

"I believe I did, but I didn't do anything."

"Then what is _this_?" Carwyn demanded, shoving the poison bottle in front of her eyes.

"I've never seen it before."

Carwyn growled in disbelief and pulled it back. "If you confess, you might be spared an execution."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at Carwyn. That was a lie, pure and simple.

"I didn't hurt anyone. You must believe me. Please."

Merlin felt empathetic memories flood him, recalling a time he'd found himself in this very position, pleading his innocence when no one would believe him. "Carwyn..."

"What, Merlin?" The prince shot him an angry glance. "Don't talk to me about justice. I have evidence. I have witnesses, and she _will_ hang."

The woman began to tremble and tears welled in her eyes. "Please."

Carwyn rounded on her. "Do not speak unless you are commanded to!"

The door opened and Gwen appeared. She looked between Merlin's distressed face and Carwyn's angry one, then turned her attention to the woman on the floor. She walked to the throne, but didn't sit down. "I was told this is the person who attempted to murder Nyra."

Carwyn held out the bottle to her and Gwen took it, studying the label. "We found it in her room."

"What does she say?"

Carwyn snorted derisively. "She says she hasn't seen it before."

Gwen stared skeptically at the woman. "Did you do this?"

"No, your highness. I would never do something like this."

Gwen looked back at Carwyn. "You have witnesses who say she served Nyra?"

Carwyn nodded.

Gwen sighed and Merlin recognized the look on her face when she felt someone guilty. "Have her taken to the dungeon to await execution."

Merlin pulled his hand from the throne and strode up to Gwen. "Without a public trial?"

"She's obviously guilty," Gwen said.

"Gwen..."

"It's like you don't want anyone caught, Merlin! What's wrong with you?" Carwyn glared at him.

Merlin turned from him to Gwen, laying a hand on her arm. "I want to talk to you alone."

"So you can talk her out of an execution?" Carwyn objected.

Merlin stared into Gwen's eyes and saw her acquiesce before she spoke. "Carwyn, have them take her to the dungeon. See that she's secured."

Carwyn roughly pulled the woman off the floor. "Yes, mother," he ground out, hauling the woman out the door. The door slammed shut.

Gwen sank into her throne, looking old and tired. "I will give her a public trial if that would please you."

Merlin paced in front of Gwen. "Gwen, I don't want to hurt you."

"What is it? You don't have to fear saying anything that might hurt me. We've known each other too long to worry about that."

Merlin nodded gratefully to her, but continued to pace. "Do you remember when you made it look like Tyr tried to assassinate Arthur?"

Gwen rustled in her seat. "I accused you as well."

Merlin nodded, but he hadn't intended to mention that.

"I remember as if in a dream," Gwen whispered. "You believe this woman to be under an enchantment?"

"I don't know, but something isn't right here. I want you to delay a trial until I can question her."

Gwen slowly stood. She put a hand on Merlin's arm. "I trust you. You may have the time you need, but be careful. I don't want you to destroy Carwyn in the process. He won't understand waiting."

"I know."

* * *

Merlin made his way to the dungeon, but paused in the hall when he heard Carwyn returning from it. He ducked into an alcove to let the prince pass. He had no desire to rile the boy up again, nor to be asked any questions. What would it sound like if he admitted he had asked for time with the woman because she looked like a love from his past?

Merlin reached the bottom of the stairs and spoke to a guard. "I'd like to see the woman just brought down."

The guard stood and marched down a hall, used to obeying the warlock. Merlin frowned as the guard paused at a door. The woman had been locked away in a cell without windows or bars. A cell used for interrogations. The guard unlocked the door and pulled it open. Merlin drew a torch off the wall outside.

"I must lock it behind you," the guard explained. "Prince's orders."

"You can lock it," Merlin said. If he wanted out, he could just unlock it himself.

Merlin entered the cell. As he set the torch in a holder next to the door, the guard closed and locked the door behind him. Merlin steeled himself and turned.

The woman's chains had been lifted above her head, securing her to the wall. Her cheeks were streaked with tear stains. Her eyes widened in fear, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. "You're here to kill me."

Merlin tried to ignore the pain in his heart, but it overwhelmed him. He swallowed to compose himself. "I'm not going to kill you. I want to talk with you."

"I didn't do it. I didn't. Please. I didn't."

Merlin twisted his hands together, resisting the urge to release the woman, unlock the door, and sneak her out of the castle. Merlin moved in front of the woman and sat down. He stared into her beautiful dark eyes. "I want to ask you some questions."

"I don't know who poisoned the prince's wife. It wasn't me."

"I don't want to ask you about that."

The woman stared at him warily.

"Your name is Iona."

"Y-yes," Iona replied uncertainly.

"I want to know where you come from."

Iona lowered her eyes. "Nowhere. And anywhere. I've wandered."

"Tell me about your family."

Iona looked up. "You can't hurt them. They're dead."

Merlin's breath caught in his throat. "How did they die?" he whispered.

"In a fire. Why are you asking me this?"

"Did you have any siblings?"

"An older sister."

Merlin bit his lip, then blurted out her name. "Freya."

Iona narrowed her eyes. "How did you know?"

Merlin ran a hand over misting eyes. "I knew her."

"What? How?"

"She was captured by a bounty hunter that came through Camelot. I helped her escape."

"She's alive?" Iona spoke in disbelief.

Merlin shook his head, barely able to contain the tears choking his throat. He swallowed hard. "She told me her family was killed."

"But...it can't be. I was the only one who lived. But..." Iona trembled. "I was dazed. I wandered away and awoke in the morning to the ashes. What if...Oh, gods. Oh, Freya."

Merlin closed his eyes, imagining Freya covered in sweat and soot, fleeing her burning home, thinking everyone had perished, and she alone survived. Her sister had lived and she hadn't known it.

"How did she die?"

"She was cursed...and killed."

"If I'd known she was alive..." She began to cry.

Merlin waved his hand over the chains, releasing the woman's wrists as he worked to control his own emotions. "She spoke fondly of her family and home." He withdrew a handkerchief from a pocket and handed it to her. Iona dabbed at her eyes.

Merlin gave the woman a moment, then continued. "Tell me about yourself."

"Me?" Iona asked, glancing around the cell. "I'm no one. I've found work where I can, trying to survive. I just wanted a meal. They said if I worked at the feast, they'd feed me."

Merlin knew Gwen had allowed such things on occasion to help the poor. "How did you come to be in Camelot?"

"I met a fellow traveler who suggested I might find help here."

Merlin stared at Iona. He couldn't believe her arrival here to be a happenstance. Iona shifted and her dress, which was a little too big for her, fell at the shoulder. Merlin narrowed his eyes. "What is this?" He reached out to examine a white scar, but Iona pushed back into the wall, fear in her eyes.

Iona pulled her sleeve back up. "Nothing."

"What is it?" Merlin repeated. It had a pattern to it, like it was more a symbol than a scar.

Iona looked away. "Please leave me alone."

Merlin stared at her a moment longer, then stood. He walked to the door, unlocked it, and left. He relocked it, then strode down the hall. He'd seen the symbol on her shoulder somewhere before. Where?

* * *

Merlin couldn't sleep. Visions of Freya and her sister's white swirling scar hounded him. He gave up and dressed, leaving the castle. He strode down the streets of Camelot out into the countryside.

He found a spot to rest, leaning his back against a tree. He picked up a stick to fiddle with as he thought. "Freya...If only I could talk to you." He knew she existed in some sense at the Lake of Avalon. Maybe he should travel there. But...no. He'd been to the lake multiple times over the years and never had Arthur or Freya answered him.

Merlin rubbed at his eyes. He may not feel old, but he did feel tired. Tired of a heart shattered too many times, of Camelot under threat, of being the one who could hold it all together. _Immortal._ How many people would desire to live forever? _I don't,_ Merlin realized. All he could foresee was pain upon pain. But Arthur. He would see Arthur rise. That was enough for him to endure.

Merlin heard something carry on the breeze, a whispering voice. He slowly stood, sending his sight through the woods. He sighed when he sighted a large white form. He hiked until he reached Aithusa. She bobbed her head at his arrival. The prince with her didn't acknowledge him.

Merlin cradled Aithusa's head in his hands and met her forehead to forehead as they often did. They were creatures of magic and since he'd embraced being Emrys their understanding of each other had deepened.

Merlin let go, stroking under her chin. "I've spoken to the woman."

Carwyn didn't look at him from where he leaned against Aithusa's side.

"I don't think she poisoned Nyra."

Carwyn's jaw tightened.

"Carwyn, please hear me."

"Hear what?" Carwyn ground out.

"Revenge can consume you."

"It's not revenge. It's justice."

Merlin let go Aithusa's chin and moved closer to the prince. "You might think so, but..."

"Stop," Carwyn said. He turned his gaze to Merlin. "You don't have any right to tell me what I feel, what I should do. You don't have wife or a child, so don't presume to tell me anything." The prince pushed off the dragon and stomped away.

Merlin felt Aithusa nudge him in the back. Merlin turned back to her, rubbing her chin again. "He's hurting right now," he whispered, both to himself and the dragon.

 _Emrys._

Merlin jerked his head up.

 _Emrys._

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

 _Come._

Merlin let go Aithusa. "Diamoní," he ordered her to stay. "Leoht." He held his hand aloft as he moved deeper into the wooded area in the direction of the voice. He spied a dark shadow standing in front of a tree. He readied himself for danger, holding out his other hand. The figure stood with head bowed. He drew close. _What was this?_ The figure wasn't standing on his own; he was tied with rope around the tree. Someone attacked by bandits, maybe? But this close to Camelot?

Merlin cautiously approached. He lifted the chin of the unconscious figure. "Blaise!" he exclaimed in horror.


	34. Warning

Merlin paced in agitation as Reynfrey stabilized Blaise. "I did all I could," he mumbled, working to keep from breaking down. He turned his head slightly to look at the young man laid out on a table, his head, hands, and feet drenched in blood, his clothes stained with it.

Reynfrey spoke lowly. "Whoever attacked him tried to drain him dry." The magic physician began cutting the clothes from Blaise's body. "I don't know if he'll live."

Merlin continued to pace. He should have looked for him sooner. He'd been too distracted by Nyra's poisoning and then Freya's sister.

"Emrys?"

Merlin looked to his old room where Nyra had taken up residence to remain close to Reynfrey as she recovered. The young woman stood at the bottom of the stairs, barefoot in her nightgown and staring at Blaise. Merlin darted over to her, grasping one of her arms. "You shouldn't be up."

"I'm fine." She made to step forward, but lost her balance and only remained upright thanks to Merlin's support. She tightened her grip on his arm.

"Here," Merlin said, helping her back up the stairs.

"But..."

"You can't do anything to help."

"That's Blaise."

"Yes." Merlin directed her back to his old bed, and she sank down on it, putting a hand to her head.

"I just felt a little dizzy."

"No one will fault you for staying in bed," Merlin gently chided the Druid.

Nyra looked up at him and broke into a smile. "I suppose not," she said tiredly. She let out a long breath. "What happened to Blaise?"

"I don't know. I found him tied to a tree."

"Is he...dead?"

"Not yet," Merlin whispered.

Nyra shook her head, and then her eyes flashed. "Someone's trying to hurt us all."

Merlin had come to the same conclusion. Someone was tormenting Camelot and he'd begun to suspect who. "You should rest. I can see to Blaise."

"Carwyn told me about the woman he thinks poisoned me."

Merlin looked away from the girl's suddenly penetrating gaze.

"He said you don't think she did."

"I'm not _certain_ she did," Merlin clarified.

"I told him to trust you."

Merlin turned his gaze back on Nyra.

"You're Emrys. You have more wisdom than any of us."

Merlin stepped up to the bed and laid his hands on Nyra's shoulders. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

"You'll try." She smiled up at him. He and Carwyn might have shared magic, but only Nyra shared an understanding of destiny.

Merlin nodded, knowing what she said was true. The best he could do was try. He leaned down to kiss the forehead of the woman he'd come to consider the daughter he never had.

"Merlin!" Reynfrey called from the main chamber.

"Rest," Merlin commanded Nyra, letting her go, shutting the door, and descending the stairs.

Reynfrey stood next to Blaise, his eyes wide, pointing. "Look."

Merlin moved to the physician's side and his heart froze. A message of only one word had been carved into Blaise's chest: EMRYS.

* * *

Merlin pounded on Gwen's door, his heart racing, his chest aching from exertion. He didn't have to wait long for a blurry eyed Gwen to crack open the door. "Merlin?"

Merlin pushed the door open fully, entering her room. "It's me, Gwen. This is all about me."

Gwen turned, shutting the door. "Light?" she asked quietly.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold and the candles lit. He faced her, his arms crossed into his chest. "I found Blaise."

"Blaise was missing?" Gwen asked in confusion.

Merlin forgot she hadn't known. With all the uproar over the poisoning, no one had been paying attention to poor Blaise. "I went to his room and he was gone. I just found him in the woods. Cut, bleeding..." Merlin ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"He's with Reynfrey?"

"Now. Gods, Gwen! He's just an innocent boy!"

Gwen moved close to Merlin and took his hands in hers. "Come sit." She drew him to a chair and gently pushed him into it, then pulled another chair up facing him and sat down. Merlin perched his elbows on his knees, his hands pressed together, his fingers to his lips. "Tell me what happened."

Merlin stared into her waiting eyes. Where to begin? He could hardly wrap his own thoughts around the whirlwind of events the last day. "I realized Blaise hadn't been around all day. His room was empty. After I questioned Iona, I took a stroll and found him tied to a tree." Merlin's hands pressed tightly together. "Someone tried to... _exsanguinate_ him."

Gwen's gaze became horrified.

"He may not live." Tears sprang to Merlin's eyes.

Gwen laid one hand on his knee, but brought the other to her neck. "How is this about you?"

Merlin clenched his jaw. "Because he left a message. On Blaise. _Emrys_ knifed into his chest." Merlin covered his eyes with his hands as he broke down. Gwen leaned into him, holding him tightly. When he quieted, Gwen pulled back, fighting her own tears.

"Who is doing this?"

Merlin continued to tremble. "I can only think of one man—Rankin."

"He's dead."

Merlin rose from the chair, pacing again, running his hand through his hair a second time. "I've never believed him to be gone. He tried to break me once and he's doing it again."

"You can't be certain," Gwen argued. "There are many who despise Camelot."

"No. It's me. Don't you see? Nyra poisoned, her child threatened. He knows Carwyn is like a son to me. And then the woman blamed is the sister of a woman I loved?"

Gwen raised her eyebrows. "Iona is what?"

Merlin looked suddenly guilty. "I didn't know who she was at first," he muttered weakly.

"A woman you loved? Who?"

"A woman long dead." A girl, really. They had been so very young then.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gwen sounded hurt and angry at the same time.

"It would complicate matters."

"You should have told me."

Merlin confronted her pained eyes and nodded. "I should have...Rankin is finding ways to hurt me through the people I care for. Nyra, Freya's sister, Blaise... This _is_ all about me."

Gwen rose from her seat. "Let's say this is true. If this is Rankin, what does he accomplish? Revenge?"

Merlin wondered if it could be so straightforward. "There's got to be more to it. He wanted to kill you and take Camelot. And if he's behind _The Retribution of Camelot_..."

Gwen nodded slowly. "He wants to free Camelot from the Pendragons entirely." Gwen stared at him. "What do we do?"

Merlin stared back. "We prepare."

* * *

Merlin steadied himself as he pushed open the door to the physician's chambers. He stepped inside to see Blaise sitting up in a cot. "Merlin!" the young man called out, smiling. Merlin strolled over to the cot, sitting on a stool. "Reynfrey was just giving me something to eat."

Reynfrey approached. "I can hardly believe you're alive."

"It's thanks to you," Blaise said as he took the bowl of soup Reynfrey offered, but Merlin noted it shook in his grasp. Blaise tried to bring the spoon to his mouth with a quivering hand.

"Here," Merlin said. He took the bowl and spoon from Blaise. "Let me." He held the spoon to Blaise's lips so he could suck at the warm liquid.

Blaise smacked his lips. "It's good."

Merlin tried to smile and failed. He continued to feed Blaise until the bowl was empty. Blaise lay back with a contented sigh. "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted. Achy. Not too bad."

Merlin shook his head at Blaise's characteristic optimism. "I'm sorry."

Blaise's eyes met his and turned serious. "You didn't do this to me."

"Someone did this to you to hurt me."

Blaise sighed and brought a hand to his bandaged chest. "I know what happened. It's alright."

Merlin tried not to break down at the boy's ease of forgiving his part in this.

"The queen came to see me."

Merlin nodded. "She's mobilized the knights and warriors. We're protecting the city and castle. We won't let anyone else come to harm." The past two days had been a flurry of activity.

"She wanted to know who did this. I don't know. I was writing in the woods, and then I woke up here." Blaise's eyes grew moist. Merlin reached out a hand to his shoulder. "They took the book."

Merlin stared. The book about him. _Me again. This is all focused on me._ "All your work..." Merlin squeezed the young man's shoulder. "Well, I'll just have to tell it all to you again."

"I think I bother you too much." Blaise's voice was sadly sincere.

"Never."

Blaise raised his eyebrows.

"Well, yes. But I want to be bothered. Bother me any time."

Blaise smiled.

* * *

Merlin left Blaise's side on a mission. He marched to the dungeon, passing the guards who peered at him with curious eyes when he didn't stop to consult them. He paused in front of Iona's cell, his eyes gleaming golden to unlock it. He threw its door open. The sight that met his eyes cut him to the quick. The woman was dirty and disheveled, her hair in disarray, her face smudged and tear streaked. She looked so much like her sister had when he'd hidden her. Iona's eyes moved to him, but they'd dulled. _I should have come back sooner._

Merlin steeled himself. He'd come for answers. He strode up to Iona and crouched down in front of her. He yanked her sleeve away from the shoulder with the patterned scar. "Who did this?" he demanded.

Iona pulled away.

Merlin grasped her behind the neck, forcing her to look at him. "You're part of some game to hurt me. Who did this?"

"I...I don't know," Iona stammered.

"How did this happen?"

Iona shook in his hand. He let go her neck. He sat beside her, leaning against the prison walls. "I don't believe you poisoned Nyra."

Iona's shoulders shook with tears. "Then let me out of here. Please."

"I wish I could... I need to know what that scar is."

"I don't know. It's true."

"Tell me about it."

Iona wiped at her face. "It wasn't too long ago. I was in another city looking for work. I found shelter in an alley and a man found me."

"Go on," Merlin prompted.

"He offered me money...to please him." Iona buried her face in her hands. "I'd never done that before, but I needed the money."

Merlin contemplated the floor of the cell. He couldn't imagine being in such desperate need. And that some men took advantage of women...and Freya's sister at that. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure what happened," Iona spoke quietly. "I must have passed out. When I awoke, my shoulder hurt and this was there." She rubbed at the patterned scar. "He only left a couple coins."

Merlin leaned his head against the wall. Blaise marked with his name. Iona marked with a symbol. Both horribly mistreated. What was the purpose to it?

"Help me," Iona begged.

Merlin turned his head to her, the words from his dream startling him. Her pleading eyes pierced his soul.

* * *

Merlin found himself back in Reynfrey's chambers near the end of the day. He greeted Blaise, who still remained in the cot, though the boy now had his nose in a book. The sight lightened Merlin's heavy mood.

"I need to see Gaius' books," Merlin said.

Reynfrey pointed to a bookshelf. "Grimald kept everything. Even organized them."

Merlin walked over to the numerous tomes. He could almost sense the spirit of Gaius next him, both of them discussing where to find the answers they sought as they had many times. He smiled at the memory of the nights they'd sat across from each other turning page after page seeking solutions. At the time, he'd been tired and annoyed. Now he would have given anything to spend just one more sleepless night in the physician's presence.

Merlin's smile fell. His work was too serious for wishful memory. He set himself to his task, pulling out several books he knew Gaius had consistently consulted when dark magic was involved. Merlin had already gone through his own stack of books, even his copy of _The Retribution of Camelot._ He'd found nothing.

Merlin plunked a pile of books on Reynfrey's table.

"Do you need help?" Blaise asked.

Merlin looked over at him. "You need rest."

"I want _something_ to do."

Merlin handed a couple books to the boy.

"What are we looking for?"

Merlin dug into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper with the symbol on it. "This." He handed it to Blaise.

Blaise set aside his own book, taking the two offered and pouring over them, his eyes creased in concentration. Merlin grabbed several others, and sat at the table thumbing through them one by one, skimming various descriptions of dark magic. He tried not to get distracted, but several times his thoughts wandered when he came upon information he and Gaius had used to help Arthur or Uther or Camelot. He could hear Gaius' voice explaining the pages. _I need you here, Gaius_.

Merlin perused the books for over an hour, increasingly thinking the exercise a waste of time. "Any luck, Blaise?"  
Blaise didn't answer.

Merlin saw the boy had fallen asleep, one of the books laying open across his chest. He smiled and stood to retrieve it. He turned it over, intending to close it and put it back in the stack, then stalled, staring. A sketch of the symbol met his eyes. He scanned the writing surrounding it, his eyes widening. He rushed from the room.

* * *

"She didn't do it." Merlin dropped the open book onto Carwyn's table. He'd interrupted a meal.

"The woman?" Carwyn ground out.

"Carwyn," Nyra spoke warningly. The Druid had been well enough to move back to their chambers and sat next to her husband.

Merlin pointed. "See this? She has a scar just like it on her shoulder."

Carwyn leaned over the book and skimmed the passage. He pushed back in his chair, staring with uncertain eyes at Merlin.

"You can't hold her any longer."

"She poisoned Nyra."

"She had no choice!"

Nyra had slid the book over to read it. "Carwyn, if this happened to her...she didn't know what she was doing."

Carwyn threw down a napkin and stood, pacing away from the table to lean against a window frame.

Merlin pulled the book back over. He traced the picture of the symbol. He must have remembered if from one of those long nights searching through books with Gaius. It was a brand, one inflicted by magic. It bound the will of its bearer to another, a process known as enthrallment. "She's suffered enough. Let her go."

Carwyn's smoldering eyes turned to Merlin. "And if she does something else?"

"I can release her from it."

Nyra stood, moving over to grasp her husband's arms crossed over his chest. "Emrys is right and you know it."

Carwyn stared at her for a moment, then unfolded his arms and wrapped them protectively around her shoulders. He didn't look at Merlin. "Then release her."

* * *

The door to the cell opened. A guard stood by with a torch as Merlin stepped inside. Iona stared at the open door. "Is it time?" Her voice quavered.

"You're free."

Iona gasped, then choked, sobs welling up.

"Unspanne pas frown," Merlin spoke softly. The chains around Iona's wrists tumbled to the floor. He knelt down in front of her. "I have to do something else to help you."

Iona swallowed and nodded feebly.

Merlin gripped her arms. "Aliese pas frown ond adee fram wealsadan." Merlin felt magic surge through him. He gently pulled Iona's sleeve down. He let out a breath of relief. "It's gone."

Iona looked to her shoulder, rubbing where the scar used to be. "What was it?"

"I'll explain after you've had a good rest. Come." He helped her stand, but she faltered, collapsing into his arms. He let her lean into him for a moment to regain her strength, then he held her arm as they left the cell. She wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief he'd given her previously.

Merlin directed her up the stairs and down several halls. He stopped at the door to a bedchamber. "You'll be staying here. I've had them draw a bath for you."

"W-what?" Iona stammered.

"After what you've suffered, I thought it only right we provide for you until you find a home and work." _And I owe Freya_. Merlin pushed open the door. "Food will be provided as well."

Iona stepped inside the room, staring wonderingly at its opulence. Merlin pulled back to close the door when Iona turned to him. "You loved her, didn't you?"

Merlin stalled. He met the dark brown depths of her eyes. "I did." He closed the door, striding back down the hall, a wistful smile playing on his lips.


	35. Distraction

"This is for you."

Blaise's eyes grew as large as saucers when Merlin set an enormous leather tome in his lap. He ran a hand over the cover. "It's beautiful." The young man was sitting up in his own bed, recovered enough to occupy his chamber.

Merlin pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. "And I've already started it."

Blaise turned to the front page, reading an inscription and then skimming a short biography Merlin had written on his background. He looked up at the warlock. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do considering what happened to you. _And_ you found the symbol and saved the life of an innocent woman."

Blaise's cheeks flushed. "I fell asleep. I didn't even realize I found it."

"If you hadn't dropped off to sleep at the exact page, _I_ wouldn't have seen it. I think that counts."

Blaise rubbed at his chest. Merlin sighed. "Oh. It just itches."

Merlin firmed his jaw. "Is it...visible?" He'd wondered how much of his name Reynfrey had been able to remove.

"Only slightly. Really, it's alright."

"It's not alright, Blaise. Someone hurt you. That's not alright."

Blaise peered down at Merlin's gift. "I know people make fun of me. I've always been too learned for my own good. But even though I've gotten on your nerves, you've made time for me." Blaise looked up. "Not many people have done that for me."

Merlin felt a surge of guilt. "I don't deserve any praise."

Blaise laughed. "How can you not deserve praise? I know your stories, remember?"

Merlin laughed through a sigh. "That's true."

"I may be just a scribe, but I'm proud of who I am and what I've done. And I suppose if I've devoted my life to Emrys, well, it's a little befitting it's your name I'd bear, isn't it?"

Merlin stared in awe at the boy he'd often put off and been annoyed at waxing philosophical again. He had a sudden feeling he should be spending way more time in serious conversation with Blaise. Blaise's words echoed his own when he'd told Arthur something similar concerning his own pride at being a servant to the prince.

Merlin cleared his throat. "If I _ever_ get frustrated with you again, I want you to repeat what you just said and tell me to shut up."

Blaise beamed at him.

* * *

Merlin balanced a tray in one hand as he knocked with the other on Iona's door. From what he'd been told, the woman hadn't emerged in two days. She'd been through so much, he'd thought to stay away and let her recover, but he'd begun to worry her experience had wounded her far deeper than he knew.

The door slowly opened. Iona peeked out. "Oh!" She swung the door open wide, glancing between Merlin and the tray of food he carried. "I didn't think you'd bring my meal today."

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

Merlin strode to the small table in the room, setting down the tray. He turned back to her, trying not to let her similarity to Freya unnerve him. "I thought we might share a meal if that's acceptable to you."

"Yes. That's fine."

Merlin pulled out a chair from the table and gestured to it. Iona approached, sitting down gingerly. Merlin walked over to a decanter on a side table, pouring a couple goblets of wine. He returned, placing one in front of Iona, then taking a seat across from her.

Iona slid a plate off the tray and picked at a pile of fruit.

Merlin nervously smoothed his beard and took a sip of wine. He bit off a piece of a roll. After he swallowed, he broke the awkward silence. "They tell me you haven't been out much."

Iona looked up at him. "I feel so out of place. All this..." She glanced around the room and then indicated the dress she wore, an elegant one Merlin had asked provided for her. "It's a bit overwhelming."

Merlin smiled. "I felt the same way when I first came here. It was exciting, but also so different. And dangerous for me at the time."

"You didn't grow up in Camelot?"

Merlin shook his head. "I was born in Essetir."

"How did you end up here?"

"How about you eat, and I'll tell you."

Merlin launched into his story, explaining his magical birth, his mother's concerns, and how he'd come to Camelot so Gaius could guide his magic. He shared a short version of events that detailed his service to Arthur, his destiny, Morgana's fall, and what had happened at Camlann.

Iona stared at him when he finished. "You've lived an amazing life."

Merlin smiled with half his mouth. "Some of it was quite good, but there was a lot of pain in it, too. I don't know if it's amazing."

"It is," Iona disagreed. "How much you've done for Camelot...How much you've endured."

"I suppose it was just destiny," Merlin muttered.

"I do wonder though..."

"What?"

"How my sister fit into your life? When did you meet her? When did she die?"

Merlin felt foolish for not realizing she'd need to hear about Freya. He reached out to collect her empty plate, setting both his and hers on the tray. He stood, walked to her side, and held out his hand. She took it and he lifted her out of her seat. "Would you like to take a stroll?"

* * *

Merlin escorted Iona outside to the small garden at the back of the castle. As they walked, he spoke quietly. "I met Freya when I was only a youth. She had been captured by a bounty hunter."

"Bounty hunter?" Iona asked.

Merlin nodded. "I knew that could easily have been me at the time. I just felt...well, I couldn't leave her in his cage. So I let her out and hid her."

Iona's grip tightened on his arm. "You said she'd been cursed."

"She didn't tell me too much about that, just that a man had attacked her and she'd killed him, then his mother had cursed her to kill. She turned into an animal, a Bastet, at night and was helpless to prevent the deaths she caused."

Iona brought a hand to her neck. "It's difficult to think of her like that. She was always so gentle and kind."

"I saw the same in her," Merlin whispered.

Iona looked over at him. "Is that why you loved her?"

"Yes. But, I also think there was a bit of young love at work. I loved her immediately, and how much of that was youth and how much true I wonder at times. I only knew her a few days before she died."

"I don't think it matters," Iona asserted with a sad smile. "At least she didn't die unloved. Did the bounty hunter find her?"

"No. She was fatally wounded as a Bastet. I took her to the Lake of Avalon and set her bier upon the waters." Merlin closed his eyes briefly against the memory.

"Thank you."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"For taking care of her."

Merlin nodded.

"And me... What happened to me?"

Merlin stopped at a bench, and Iona sat down. He slipped down beside her. "My story didn't end at Camlann." He related Carwyn's birth and the discovery of his magic, Rankin's first attack and then his attempt to raise Morgana with the power of Emrys. "I believe he didn't die. That he is behind these recent attacks, including you. The mark on you was one of enthrallment."

"What does that mean?" Iona asked with concern.

"It means you would do whatever the person who branded you told you to do. You wouldn't even be aware you were doing it."

Iona spoke in a hushed voice. "So I _did_ poison the prince's wife."

"You had no choice. What I don't understand is how Rankin found you. He certainly could have found out about Freya when he had me imprisoned, but to track you down? Not even Freya knew you survived."

"I don't know."

"It's probably dark magic of some kind."

Iona suddenly leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her hands covering her eyes.

"I'm sorry all this happened to you."

"Maybe I'm cursed, too," Iona whispered. "The curse of life. I try and try, but I can never get very far before it all goes wrong." Her shoulders began to shake.

Merlin laid a tentative hand on her back. "I'm going to take care of you. I won't let you leave until I know you'll be safe and provided for."

Iona turned teary eyes on him. "I know she loved you. She must have. You're too good and kind for her not to."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat. He reached out a hand and gently wiped her cheeks. "Come. I'll take you back inside."

* * *

Merlin kept his arm around Iona as they walked back to her room. When they reached the hall to her chamber, he felt her tense in his grasp. Carwyn stood against the wall across from her door. "It's alright," he whispered. "I promise you're safe."

Merlin directed her to her door, keeping his gaze on Carwyn. "What do you need?"

Carwyn didn't look at Iona. "I wanted to talk with you."

Merlin turned away, pushing open Iona's door. He guided her inside. As he made to exit, she spoke softly. "Would you...dine with me tonight? When you're here, I don't feel so lonely."

Merlin bowed his head to her, indicating he'd return. He shut the door behind him to face Carwyn.

"I tried your room. You weren't there," the prince said quietly.

"Walk with me," Merlin commanded, striding back down the hall. Carwyn paced at his side. Merlin turned into a stairwell, climbing until he reached an empty landing. He leaned against the wall. "Yes?"

Carwyn sat back against a railing, meeting Merlin's eyes. "I should have listened to you."

"You should," Merlin stated directly.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I don't know what came over me, I just...I know I should have trusted you. After all you've done for me, for Camelot...I was...a clotpole."

Merlin chuckled. "You were."

Carwyn rubbed at the back of his neck. "Forgive me."

Merlin sighed. "Carwyn, there's nothing to forgive. I understand. Sometimes when you love someone, you don't listen very well." Hadn't he refused to believe Gaius' claim that Freya was a Bastet, unwilling to admit she was a danger?

"I suppose that's true."

"But you have to think more clearly as king," Merlin went on, unwilling for the prince not to learn what he needed to out of this. "You can't let your emotions rule you, not when people's lives are at stake. That's what Uther did, and you are far better than he ever was."

"I hope so," Carwyn murmured dejectedly.

"I know so," Merlin said, pushing off the wall to clap the prince on his shoulder.

Carwyn smiled at him. "How often did you have to take my father to task?"

Merlin laughed. "It would take me too long to count."

Carwyn's gaze sobered. "Mother says you think the sorcerer Rankin is behind all this. That he didn't die."

"It makes the most sense."

"We destroyed the whole caverns when we rescued you."

"Do you know how many times I thought Morgana had been defeated and she returned?" Merlin asked. "All this is too much like him. He taunts me, then tries to destroy me. He tried to kill you and Gwen, then me, and now he's after others I care about."

"Do you think we're ready for him?"

Merlin rubbed at his beard again. They might not know until he was upon them. "The best we can do is keep the warriors and knights alert and training."

* * *

Merlin leaned against a window frame, staring out at a grassy field blowing in a breeze. His eyes followed the slim form of a woman with dark hair falling down her back as she picked her way through the field, pausing now and then to gather flowers. Iona had become braver in the past week. He'd insisted she couldn't just stay in her chamber, and she'd promised she'd try for him. He'd caught a glimpse of her out this very window and became aware she made daily trips to the field next to the castle. Every time he passed the window, he found he hoped to see her and had stopped now when he sighted her again.

"Ah...So _that's_ what so holds your attention."

Merlin jumped, standing and whirling around. "Gwen."

Gwen stood just behind him. She moved to the other side of the window. "How is she?"

"Better," Merlin muttered, flustered to have been caught staring at Iona.

"Good." Gwen peered out the window for a moment, then looked back at him. "Do you remember when you said I wasn't too old to love?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows warily.

"You aren't too old either."

Merlin glanced back out the window. Iona had knelt in the grass, a bunch of flowers in her lap. "I banished any hope of that kind of love long ago."

"Why?"

Merlin kept his gaze on Iona. "When I loved Freya, I almost left Camelot with her. If circumstances had let me, I would have. And Arthur would have been alone when I willingly threw my purpose to the wind."

"You've fulfilled your destiny."

"Some of it," Merlin amended. "What was made clear to me."

"Then pursue her."

Merlin sighed and met Gwen's eyes. "My life is you and Carwyn and Camelot."

"The Pendragons can spare you to another," Gwen stated firmly.

Merlin propped his head against the window frame. He didn't dare hope for love, not now. "What has happened most of my life, Gwen? How much danger have I been in? I can't ask someone to join me in that."

"Maybe you should let her decide if she wants to join you. I knew when I married Arthur it wouldn't be easy. I knew I would live under threats. I did so of my own accord."

"Maybe I'm also afraid I feel for her just because of Freya," Merlin spoke quietly. "It wouldn't be fair."

"You won't know unless you take a risk and get to know her."

Merlin looked out the window to see Iona making her way back to the castle. What should he do? He felt Gwen's hand on his arm.

"Let yourself take a chance, Merlin." She patted his arm and began to walk away when Merlin called after her.

"So, Leon..."

"Just don't go there," Gwen warned without looking back.

Merlin smiled.

* * *

"Master Rankin?"

A man in a dark robe looked up from a chair beside a fireplace, setting a book in his lap. "Yes?"

"This arrived, sir," a podgy man reported, holding out a rolled parchment.

"Ah, good." Rankin accepted the parchment, and the man bowed and retreated. "You know, that man and his wife were the first I ever enthralled."

A man in a robe resembling his looked up from another book peppered with strange symbols.

"I sometimes feel sorry for them."

"Why?" the other man asked.

"I removed their enchantment years ago, but they'd been so affected, they continued to follow me. I think it must have something to do with weak-willed minds."

"What does the letter say?"

Rankin unrolled the parchment. He smiled. "Emrys is distracted."

"Is it time?"

"Soon."

Rankin lifted up the book in his lap scribbled in the hand of an eager young scribe.

"Anything useful?" the other man asked.

"Oh, yes. Emrys is stronger than I even guessed."

"Then your plan is in jeopardy."

Rankin smirked. "The spirit of Morgana smiles on us, I think. Emrys is strong, but long ago, she provided the way of his defeat, though she didn't know it."

"How do we stop him?"

Rankin turned a page in the book. "All in good time," he cautioned. "All in good time."


	36. Respite

Merlin tiptoed into the kitchens, sneaking up to a woman with her back to him, dark hair tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck. He reached his arm around her so she could see what he held in his hand.

Iona jumped, then peered over her shoulder. "It's beautiful."

Merlin moved to her side. Her hands were currently dusted in flour, so he tucked a loose hair behind her ear, then slid the sprig of bluebells in beside it. "Beauty for the beautiful."

Iona's cheeks flushed, and she concentrated on the dough she was kneading. She nodded her head to the side. "I saved a fresh one for you."

Merlin pulled a cloth off of a plate and picked up a sticky sweet roll. He leaned against the counter as he savored it, watching Iona at her work. A month had passed since she had taken up residence in the castle, but Merlin felt like he'd known her for years. Perhaps his prior relationship with Freya was the cause, or perhaps it was because love could grow so deeply so quickly.

"Do you need any help?" Merlin asked as he finished the last of the roll.

"If you want."

Merlin rinsed his hands, then procured a ball of dough and worked it next to Iona. Gwen had arranged for her to serve in the kitchens. Merlin suspected the offer came less from the goodness of Gwen's heart—though, of course, that was part of it—and more from her desire to keep Iona close and provide him the opportunity to get to know her. Merlin had taken the hint. He'd learned a great deal about the woman next to him.

Iona was diligent and hardworking, putting all her effort into any task. Yet she was hesitant and careful with people, a response to a life that had brought much hardship and little relief. She had scraped by ever since she escaped the fire that she thought killed her entire family, at first begging as a child, then passed from household to household as one family after another took advantage of an extra pair of hands. Eventually she struck out on her own, but she lived hand to mouth.

Merlin glanced at Iona out of the corner of his eye. Considering her history, he found it a marvel she hadn't become bitter and closed off from the world. He certainly sensed she hadn't been treated to the kindness she found in the castle for a very long time, not unlike Freya, scared and fragile after her encounter with Halig.

Iona was so similar to Freya, and yet, so different. Underneath her hesitant exterior was a confidence, a surety that she could stand on her own two feet. Freya had needed him completely; Iona could have left and lived without him. She chose to stay. Merlin honored her choice with his presence and his attention.

"I still can't believe you're so skilled," Iona smiled beside him.

"All those years cooking for Arthur," Merlin said. "Though sweet rolls usually aren't typical fare when gallivanting through the woods." He began pulling apart the dough, shaping it and setting the rolls aside in a row.

"Well, you learned it somewhere."

"Here," Merlin said, glancing around the kitchen. He'd hung around with the cooking staff enough, chatting with other servants.

Iona shook her head. "It's so strange to think of you as a servant."

"I hope I haven't changed much," Merlin commented.

"From what I can tell, everyone around here loves you, so don't worry about that."

Merlin nudged her arm with his shoulder. "So do you?"

"What?"

"Love me?"

"Uh..."

"Like everyone else I mean."

"Certainly." Her voice was soft and her cheeks glowed red again.

Merlin grinned, concentrating on the growing row of sweet rolls. He felt like a youth again. Did love always make one feel this giddy? Was it even appropriate for a man firmly on the other side of middle age? He found he didn't care. "I've arranged for you to join me at dinner tonight."

"In your chambers?"

"In the dining hall."

Iona stopped forming the dough and turned to him. "You want me to eat with the queen?"

"And Carwyn and Nyra." Merlin met her fearful gaze. "They won't hurt you."

"It's not that, it's just...it's not appropriate."

"Why?"

"I'm no one."

"You aren't no one to me," Merlin whispered, shaping the last of the dough. He looked back up. "And the queen won't think of you that way either. She was a maid once."

Iona sighed, turning to a bowl of honey to drizzle it over the rolls. "It's so easy to be myself with you, but with them..."

Merlin wiped his hands on a cloth and gently touched her shoulder. "I want them to know you like I know you. It's a place to start."

Iona met his gaze. "Alright," she consented.

Merlin squeezed her shoulder, and reluctantly left to attend to his other duties.

* * *

"So what do you think? Merlin?"

"Hm?"

Carwyn snapped his fingers in front of Merlin's eyes. The warlock blinked and looked up at him. "The plans?"

"Oh." Merlin looked over the papers and map in front of him. "I don't think Rankin would get very far. We've shored up every entrance to the citadel and doubled the guard. Plus the magic warriors stationed here and here." Merlin pointed.

Carwyn chuckled. "You know, I'm glad Iona was innocent. I'd never have gotten to see Merlin the lovesick sorcerer."

Merlin felt his ears go hot.

"You can hardly pay attention to anything."

"Shut up," Merlin muttered.

"She's good for you. It's a good thing."

"You and your mother," Merlin grumbled, fiddling with papers.

"My mother says we're dining with Iona tonight."

Merlin nodded.

"I want to know her better," Carwyn said, his voice becoming serious. "I know I haven't been so gracious to her. It's just difficult to forget what she did."

Merlin glared at the plans. "If I knew where Rankin was..."

"It's more likely he'll come to us."

Merlin drummed his fingers on the table. He hated this waiting game.

"I want to ride out and find him, too," Carwyn said, reading Merlin's thoughts. The warlock looked up at him. "He's hurt too many. He needs to die."

Merlin didn't usually decide someone accused should be executed without a trial, but this time he found he couldn't agree more.

* * *

"Tell me about where you come from."

Iona looked at Gwen, then to Merlin who nodded with encouragement. "To the north of Camelot. I was just a child when my family home was destroyed."

"Merlin mentioned that. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, my lady."

Nyra, who had been keeping quieter than usual throughout the meal, finally spoke up. "Your sister found a home with the Druids."

"I think so," Iona said, looking to Merlin again.

"It's only conjecture," he added to the conversation. "She bore a Druid mark."

"I wish you had found my people as well," Nyra said. "We could have helped you."

"I've known a few Druids," Iona said. "But not many." She went silent again. So far she'd only spoken when addressed directly.

Merlin nervously dipped his fingers in his water bowl. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all. Carwyn hadn't said a word, seeming entirely uncomfortable with the whole situation. Merlin knew the prince was trying, but the poisoning of his wife and his reaction that had almost condemned an innocent woman overshadowed him.

"How is work in the kitchens?" Gwen asked another question. She'd been trying the whole meal to keep the conversation going such as it was.

"It's good," Iona said. "Thank you for the opportunity, your majesty."

"You can call me Gwen."

"Eh..."

Gwen smiled at her. "Please. I mean it."

Iona nodded.

More awkward silence descended until Nyra suddenly set her goblet down a little too hard and drew all attention. "This is ridiculous." She looked to Carwyn. "We need to confess our wrongs and get it over with."

Carwyn rubbed at his neck as he met his wife's stern gaze.

Nyra looked at Iona. "You were treated horribly. It was wrong and unfair."

"You don't need to apolo..."

"If we don't," Nyra said, "we'll all sit here thinking about it." Her eyes fixed on Carwyn again. The prince cleared his throat.

"She's right," he said quietly, running a hand through his curly hair. He met Iona's eyes. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. It wasn't just."

Iona dipped her head. "You were right, though, weren't you?"

Carwyn cocked his head.

"I did poison your wife even if I don't remember doing it." She looked up, tears in her eyes. She gazed on Carwyn and then Nyra. "I'm sorry."

"It's Rankin who deserves all the guilt," Merlin declared. "Only him." He clasped his hands in his lap. "He plays games with all of us."

"Well he won't win," Carwyn said. "I'm glad you're here," he spoke to Iona. "I know it wasn't your fault. I want you here as much as Merlin does."

Iona smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"Do you know I was accused more than once within these walls?" Gwen mused. "I was almost executed twice."

Iona stared with wide-eyes. "You?"

Gwen nodded, sharing a look with Merlin. When she'd learned he was a sorcerer, she'd suddenly understood what he'd really done when he'd gone to Uther after her father had been healed. He had tried to give himself up to save her. She'd learned later he'd almost done it again when he pretended to be a sorcerer who made Arthur fall in with love her.

"I know what it feels like to be treated unjustly," Gwen went on. "I should have been more careful. I'm sorry as well."

Iona nodded to Gwen, then glanced at Merlin who smiled gently at her to encourage her.

"There," Nyra declared. "We're all sorry, and we're all family. And if Merlin cares for you, then we will, too...Oh." She leaned over her plate, clenching her fists.

"Nyra?" Carwyn asked.

"It's nothing." Nyra sucked in a breath.

Gwen stood, moving to her side. "It's the baby."

Nyra grit her teeth. Carwyn jumped up from the table.

Gwen smiled. "I think you might be parents by morning."

* * *

Carwyn paced back and forth inside Merlin's chambers. "How long has it been?"

Merlin looked up from his desk. "Only a few hours. Labor can last much longer."

Carwyn knuckled his lips nervously.

"She'll be fine," Merlin encouraged.

"You should be in there."

Merlin leaned back in his chair. Nyra had Gwen and Iona plus a mid-wife from the town. "They'll call me if I'm needed." He was doing his best to look calm for Carwyn's sake, but even he knew so many women and children died in childbirth. Still, he and Reynfrey were near and wouldn't allow that to happen.

"You act like you've done this before," Carwyn grumbled.

"When you grow up in a small village, you get used to births," Merlin explained. "My mother must have aided hundreds."

Carwyn sat down on the edge of a chair. "What if he got to the baby?"

"Who?"

"Rankin. What if the poison did something?"

"I made sure the poison was gone."

"I know, but..."

"Carwyn!" Merlin said firmly. "Your child is healthy, and Nyra is strong."

Carwyn nodded. "Yes, yes. Of course." He stood and resumed pacing.

Merlin stood. "Come on."

"What?"

"We're taking a walk."

* * *

Merlin led Carwyn to the battlements. They strode back and forth several times, then Merlin propped his arms on the parapet, studying the town below glowing in the night. Carwyn followed suit, but kept wringing his hands.

"Merlin. I'm worried."

"I've told you. They're fine."

"I mean...about being a father."

"You'd be surprised how many feel like you."

"Did you?"

Merlin turned his head to him. "The night of your birth, I come out here with you. Your mother was sleeping, and I wanted to walk and think. She'd asked me to be your guardian. I talked to your father." Merlin chuckled. "I really hoped he might say something to me, give me some advice."

Carwyn smiled. "Sorry he didn't."

"He didn't, but I realized I couldn't leave you. Still, I had never planned on being a father. I wasn't sure I had what it took. I hope I turned out okay."

"You did," Carwyn said.

"Then don't worry. You will, too."

Carwyn sighed. "I guess if I can be half as good as you have, I'll do alright."

* * *

Merlin awoke to morning light streaming in from his window and an insistent voice prompting him. He peered up at Iona leaning over him. "The baby's here," she announced.

Merlin popped up from the bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He glanced at a chair by the fireplace where Carwyn sat asleep, his head back and mouth open. They'd finally managed to dose off. He pulled himself off the bed and moved to the prince, shaking his shoulder. Carwyn smacked his lips a couple times and opened his eyes. "Your child is here."

Carwyn didn't need to be told twice. He was up and running before Merlin could even follow him. Iona hurried next to Merlin to the prince's chambers. The door was wide open. Carwyn paused before going in. Merlin reached him and gave him a gentle shove in the back to propel him inside.

Nyra sat propped against pillows, Gwen nearby in a chair. Aalef was also present. Both Carwyn and Merlin knew the Druid would have been called to bless the child. Nyra looked tired, but beamed, holding a swaddled bundle in her arms. "Carwyn," she said.

Gwen stood. "Come see your daughter."

Carwyn walked slowly to the bed, peering down on his first child. Merlin stepped up beside him to behold a tiny, tender face sleeping peacefully. Carwyn ran a finger over her cheek and the baby's eyelids fluttered. Nyra offered the bundle to him and he seemed scared for a moment.

"It's alright," Iona encouraged. She folded Carwyn's arms, then set the baby in his embrace.

"She's beautiful," Carwyn murmured. "Are you alright?" He looked to Nyra.

"Yes."

"I waited to bless her," Aalef said, standing with a smile.

Carwyn walked over to the Druid. Gwen followed as well as Iona. They watched as Aalef laid his hands on the baby and chanted over her. Merlin caught most of the words, a blessing for strength and a bright future. He looked to Nyra. Her eyes had turned troubled. He moved to the bed and put a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

Nyra swallowed. "She's a daughter."

"Carwyn won't care he doesn't have a son," he assured her.

"No. It's that...I saw a boy."

Merlin raised his chin in understanding. "In your visions in the cave." He looked back at the baby surrounded by those who would love and protect her. "I'd say, then, you'll be blessed with more children." He turned to grin at Nyra whose expression brightened. "And don't put too much stock in visions. Trying to puzzle them out hasn't been of much use to me."

Carwyn moved back over to Nyra and Merlin. He held out the bundle. "Merlin?"

Merlin gingerly took the baby into his arms, gazing down on her perfect face and long eyelashes. She _was_ beautiful and loved more than she knew. A pang of sadness welled up in the midst of his joy. _You're a grandfather, Arthur._ He felt a comforting hand on his back. Iona smiled up at him. He sighed, content. For once, all was right with the world as far as it could be.


	37. Expulsion

Merlin pushed open the door to Carwyn's chambers as deftly as he could. He peeked his head inside. Nyra had her eyes closed, asleep in the bed. He stepped through, but paused to admire the sight of Iona rocking a cradle near the bed. The dark haired woman hummed softly, staring down at the slumbering babe. Merlin stepped lightly across the room, then cleared his throat quietly. Iona turned, her dark eyes shining upon seeing him.

"Shhh," she warned.

Merlin nodded and smiled, sliding to his knees next to her chair to adore his "granddaughter." She'd turned out to be a fairly easy baby, sleeping well and crying only when in need. Merlin discerned both Carwyn and Nyra in her, but at times she scrunched up her face and distinctly reminded him of Arthur.

Merlin peered up at Iona, still humming. Nyra, who had been so opposed to a nursemaid, had found recovery from labor more exhausting than she expected. Iona had willingly offered her services. She seemed to have a knack for taking care of children, a skill she said came from the numerous little ones she'd cared for when someone offered her shelter and food in exchange for another pair of eyes on their young ones.

A rustling came from the cradle, and then a small whine as the baby stirred. Iona reached down a hand to calm her. "Shhhh, little Brita."

Merlin watched Brita's tiny eyelids flutter open, her face scrunching up in that Arthur way. He held his hand over the cradle. "Forbearnan." A flame grew up in his palm. He concentrated, causing it to float upwards. Brita's nut-brown eyes roved as a newborn's did, but she blinked when Merlin spoke again. "Draca." The flame lilted back and forth, forming a swirling dragon. Brita flailed her arms, and gurgled. The dragon faded as Iona reached down to pick up the baby and rock her in her arms.

"You can do such beautiful things," Iona marveled

Merlin grinned up at her. "How about this?" He rubbed his hands together vigorously, drew them back against his chest, then moved them to his mouth, speaking into them. "Aelap eorcanstan bliccettunge." He held out his cupped hands to Iona, then spread them apart, revealing a silver necklace inlaid with bright blue jewels.

"Merlin!"

Merlin rose from the floor, standing behind Iona to clasp the glittering strand around her neck. He walked back around to look at them. "Perfect."

"Really," Iona said, "I don't deserve them."

"And why not?" Merlin asked.

"I just...I don't know. It feels strange to wear such finery."

Merlin crouched down to look in her eyes. "You're worth them."

Iona's cheeks grew pink. She coughed. "Did you really conjure them?"

Merlin's eyes danced. So she'd caught his slight of hand. "Maybe."

Iona looked skeptical, but Brita drew her attention when she began to squirm and whine, opening and closing her mouth. "She wants to eat."

Merlin nodded, recognizing the signs. He moved over to the bed, gently pressing Nyra's shoulder. "Nyra?"

Nyra slowly opened her eyes. "Oh. I fell asleep again."

"Brita's hungry."

Nyra smiled. "I think she always is."

Iona placed Brita in Nyra's arms. Merlin moved away to give her some privacy. Nyra spoke to Iona. "I have her now. Why don't you go with Emrys."

"If you're certain, my lady," Iona said.

"I'm fine. And remember _not_ to call me 'my lady'."

"Yes...Nyra."

Iona bowed her head to Nyra and turned to Merlin, following him out the door. "I should see if they need me in the kitchens."

Merlin caught her hand. "They don't."

"But perhaps..."

"I made sure." He pulled her down the corridor and out to the courtyard where a horse had been tethered. He helped her up and then mounted, turning the horse towards the gates.

"Where are we going?" Iona asked.

"You'll see."

* * *

Merlin rode for a little time, until he reached the clearing he'd set up earlier.

"A picnic," Iona exclaimed.

"Um hm," Merlin intoned. He reined in the horse and jumped off, then turned to help her down, directing her to the blanket he'd laid down.

Iona sat down, glancing around at the spread. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He filled a plate for her and handed it to her, then saw to his own. "You've done so much for Nyra recently, I thought you deserved a break."

Iona ate slowly. Merlin finished quickly, then lay back on his side, taking a deep breath of fresh air. He pondered Iona with his head propped up on his hand. Iona set down her plate and clasped her knees to her chest.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Would you still care for me if I'd done something awful?"

Merlin sat up at the tremor in her voice. Iona concentrated on her knees. "What did you do?"

"I lied to you."

"About what?"

"What happened when the mark of enthrallment was branded on me." She glanced up, her face pale with fear.

Merlin tried to keep his panic under control. "You work for Rankin."

"No. No, I didn't. Not willingly. That part is true."

Merlin's voice had gone cold. "Did you betray us?"

Iona's eyes brimmed with tears. "If I did, I didn't mean to."

"What really happened?"

"I was living on the streets. One night, I felt...I don't know...I had to rise and follow a voice. I walked as if in a dream, but when I reached a wooded area I came awake. A man stood there, holding something glowing in his hand. I felt I had to see it. I walked towards him, but he hid it in his cloak." She paused, glancing at him once more. Merlin just stared. She lowered her eyes again.

"I asked who he was and how I got there. He told me he had taken notice of me and had a proposition for me. He said he needed my help and if I helped him, he'd give me twenty coin." Her chin trembled. "I was so desperate, so tired of living in the dirt. I agreed. He gave me the money, then began to speak in a language like you use when you do spells. I felt a burning on my shoulder and I think I screamed. And he was gone and the mark was there."

Iona buried her head in her knees, her hands covering her eyes. "I'm sorry. I lied because I thought if you knew I'd let it happen to me for money, you'd kill me. I swear I didn't know what he was going to do."

Merlin shuffled over to Iona on his knees. He lay a hand on her back. She jerked at his touch, but he didn't remove it. "So he didn't really use you that night?"

"Not him," Iona mumbled. "The story I told was true, but it happened long ago."

"What did this man look like?"

"I couldn't tell much in the dark, but..."

"What?"

"He's in my head."

Merlin gripped her shoulders. "Look at me."

Iona raised her head.

"What do you mean?"

"I see him in my dreams every night. Merlin, I'm scared. I don't know what he did to me."

Merlin drew Iona into him, encasing her in his arms. "I wouldn't have killed you," he whispered.

"I know that now. I'm so sorry."

"None of this is your fault. He took advantage of you."

"Please help me. I don't want to see him any more."

Merlin gently pushed her back, a firm grip on her shoulders. "I will."

* * *

"I found it," Merlin called out, standing up from a pile of books littering a table in the library.

Blaise, who he'd enlisted to help, looked up from his own stack. "That didn't take as long as I thought it would."

"It's been three hours!" Merlin exclaimed. He shook his head at the boy, but laid the book in front of him, leaning over so they could both read it. "The somnium enchantment allows a sorcerer to enter the mind of another when in a state of rest. If he is strong enough, he may even be able to implant ideas without the affected's knowledge. In this way, he can maintain control of any dominance he has gained over an individual who is not in close proximity." Merlin paused.

"So...that's probably how he controlled her?"

"Or at least gave her the idea to poison Nyra. Her enthrallment would bind her to him, and he could speak to her from a long distance away."

"But you broke the enthrallment."

"But not his ability to contact her." Merlin read on. "To release the affected from a sominum enchantment requires a sorcerer powerful in magic."

"Well, we have that," Blaise commented.

Merlin ignored him. "The following spell must be chanted when the individual is in contact. Be forewarned, a sorcerer may transfer his control from the affected's mind to the one attempting to remove him."

"It sounds dangerous."

"That never stopped me before." Merlin picked up the book, closing it and tucking it under his arm. "Thank you for your help, Blaise."

"Carwyn should be there when you try this."

"I'll be fine."

"Please, Emrys. Someone should be with you. A sorcerer and one who's capable, not me."

"So you don't think I'm the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth?" His eyes twinkled.

Blaise smiled. "Yes, but better safe than sorry."

Merlin looked into his scribe's worried eyes. Considering all Blaise had gone through, he acquiesced. "I'll talk to Carwyn."

* * *

Merlin laid a comforting hand on Iona's shoulder as she settled onto her bed. "You'll be alright. I'll be careful and Carwyn is here."

Iona glanced at the prince, then looked back to Merlin and nodded. "I trust you."

Merlin laid a hand on her forehead. "Swefe nu." His eyes gleamed gold. Iona's eyes closed and her breathing became deep and regular. Merlin turned to Carwyn.

"Did you lie to her?" the prince asked. "Is it really safe?"

"I fear with Rankin, nothing's entirely safe, but I won't let him afflict her anymore."

Carwyn stepped up to Merlin's side. "I'll be here if you need me."

Merlin smiled grimly in gratitude. He turned back to Iona, laying his hand on her forehead again, directing his magic through his hand into her mind. He waited for a little time, then spoke. "She's dreaming now." He worked his jaw a moment, gathered his strength, and pressed into Iona's mind. He closed his eyes.

Even though he'd done this once with Carwyn, Merlin was unsure it would work the same way. Then he'd forced his way in. Now he was invited. "Breostloca geopenap aet mec." He felt himself propelled forward, and blinked in surprise when he came to a gentle stop in a one room home.

Merlin moved through the home, picking up an object here or there, simple wooden plates and bowls, rough woolen clothing. He heard liquid pouring behind him and turned. Iona stood over a bucket of water, drawing it out and filling several cups. She turned and dropped the one she held, water sloshing at her feet. "Merlin," she breathed out.

"Iona."

"You shouldn't be here."

Merlin glanced around in confusion. "Where are we?"

"Please go."

A hand shot out from a chair facing Iona, and she froze as her wrist was gripped. A blond man with a short beard rose and turned, blue eyes bright.

"Rankin," Merlin ground out.

"Emrys," Rankin greeted. "I wondered how long it would take you to come."

"You aren't dead. What a surprise."

"I figured you wouldn't count me lost. Not that your little band of magic didn't try." Rankin stroke his forehead and cheek. Merlin saw thick scars trailing along both.

"Let her go."

"Why?"

"She's no longer enthralled to you. You have no use for her."

"On the contrary, I have much use for her. As long as I torment her, I torment you."

"Take _my_ mind."

Rankin laughed, turning to Iona and running a hand over her cheek as she stood frozen.

"Stop," Merlin demanded.

"Do you care for her? She looks quite like her sister."

Merlin clenched his fists.

"It took me a long time to find her. Haven't you wondered how I was able to track down a woman no one knew about?"

"No," Merlin lied.

"Oh, you have wondered. I see it in your mind." Rankin stood to Iona's side. "Someone told me, though I admit not consciously."

"Who?"

Rankin just grinned.

Merlin glared at him, raising his hands. "Enough. Leave now."

"Make me."

Merlin's magic surged as he chanted the spell from the book. "Berbay odothay aliese thas mageth fram paes aehtgewealdes unswfenes." Blue fire shot out of his hands, but Rankin raised his own, forming a barrier that absorbed the spell. He cackled with glee.

"You see? I am more powerful as well! Morgana's magic is mine, Emrys."

Merlin spoke the spell again, blanketing the barrier in fire. Rankin took a step backwards. Now Merlin grinned. Rankin cried out. "Berbay odothay onstepe."

Iona moved forward towards Merlin's fire.

"No!" Merlin shouted to her. "Iona, stop!"

She reached the fire. He dropped the spell and cried out another one instead. Iona was pulled to his side. He stared into her blank eyes.

"Let's see how powerful you really are," Rankin challenged. "Can you hold her near you and resist me as well?" Lightning zapped from his hands. Electricity arced from Merlin. Sparks exploded around the room as their power clashed.

"Berbay odothay aliese thas mageth fram paes aehtgewealdes unswfenes!" Merlin shouted the spell a third time, blue fire erupting towards Rankin. Rankin's barrier appeared once more, but it shuddered. Rankin shouted, his face screwed up in concentration. Iona began to drift back towards him. "Stay here!" Merlin ordered, splitting his concentration again. Rankin's barrier began to solidify. Iona stalled.

Rankin glanced at Merlin. "Ah...you've brought the little prince as well," he strained out.

Merlin felt Carwyn's presence next to him. The prince raised his hands. "You will leave her now! Berbay odothay aliese thas mageth fram paes aehtgewealdes unswfenes!" Carwyn's own blue fire augmented Merlin's, causing Rankin's barrier to sputter and flicker.

Rankin sank to his knees, his arms aloft. He eyed Merlin. "I...have...Freya."

"You don't!" Merlin screamed, though fear crept into his mind.

"You won't...know...until you find me." The barrier burst. Rankin was thrown backwards and disappeared through the wall of the house.

* * *

Rankin slammed into a stone wall, then bounced against an icy floor. He groaned and brought a hand to his face. It met a sticky mess. He drew his blood soaked hand back. His unenthralled yet still faithful servant helped him stand.

"Your nose, master."

Rankin pressed his palm to his nostrils. He stumbled to a chair. "Get me a cloth."

His words were obeyed. He held the cloth to his nose, eyes aflame. He'd known Emrys' power rivaled his. He had Morgana's strength, but even she had fallen at Emrys' hand. Still, he hadn't expected to be so thoroughly defeated. He slammed a fist into the table.

"You failed, master?"

Rankin clenched his teeth. "No." He hadn't really, even if he'd ended up like this. "He knows I have her. He may not believe me, but soon he will have every reason to want me dead."

"I will protect you, master."

Rankin looked on the man who had once found him and nursed him back to health along with his wife. "I believe you would try, but I don't need you. Go."

The man looked disappointed, but obeyed, leaving the sorcerer alone. Rankin continued to press the cloth to his nose. _I'm waiting, Emrys. Don't make me wait too long._

* * *

The Iona frozen in her dream began to move again. "Merlin?" Freed, she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"He's gone," Merlin assured. "Ic acwoce the." The house dissolved. Merlin gasped as Iona's bed came into focus. His knees buckled as a wave of dizziness overcame him. He looked to his right to see Carwyn kneeling as well. "Are you alright?" he murmured.

Carwyn nodded, rubbing at his forehead. "You seemed to need help."

"Thank you."

"Mer—lin?" Iona stirred on the bed. Merlin grasped the edge of the bed to pull himself up. She stared up at him wide-eyed. "He has Freya?"

Merlin tilted his head. "You saw everything?"

"Yes. He has Freya."

"He lied," Merlin insisted. "She's dead." But even he didn't believe himself. Freya wasn't exactly dead, at least, not in a traditional way of thinking. Had Rankin only claimed he captured Freya to rattle him? If so, the sorcerer had gone through a lot of trouble for a cruel joke. It wasn't like him to do something for no purpose.

Iona pushed herself up. "You saved me again." She gripped his arms, drawing him towards her. "Hold me."

Merlin perched on the edge of the bed, folding his arms around the woman. She shook ever so slightly. "I won't let him hurt you again."

"Thank you, my lord," Iona addressed Carwyn, though she didn't let go of Merlin.

"It's the least I could do." Carwyn stumbled to a chair and sank into it. "Merlin?"

Merlin spoke as he continued to cradle Iona. "What?"

"He _wanted_ you to enter her mind. He knew you'd come."

"He's always one step ahead," Merlin grumbled.

"What is his game?"

"I don't know!" Merlin spat out in frustration. Couldn't he just attack the Citadel like Morgana had? Why wait?

Alarm bells began to peal. Merlin pulled back from Iona, jerking his attention to Carwyn. He hadn't really meant it, he chastised himself. He stood. "Stay here," he commanded Iona. She nodded.

Carwyn exited with Merlin, both of them making their way to the throne room where Gwen would come for an explanation. They met Leon in the hall outside.

"She's not there," Leon said, pacing on the other side of Merlin. "Trouble in the courtyard." The three men reached the stairs to the courtyard, stepping out into darkness lit with torches.

Merlin strained his eyes in the flickering light. A stream of people were plodding into the courtyard, hunched over and exhausted. Gwen stood before a large man in torn clothing holding a child. A woman behind him held the hands of two older girls. "Percival," Merlin realized. He rushed to Gwen's side, staring up at the brawny man whose face was streaked with dirt.

"We'll make room for all of you," Gwen was saying.

"What happened?" Merlin demanded.

Percival shared a glance with Gwen, and Gwen looked hesitant.

"What is it?" Merlin asked. "Tell me."

Percival glanced back at his wife and daughters, then held the girl in his arms closer into his chest. "It's Ealdor."

Merlin felt his stomach sink.

"It's gone."


	38. Requital

Percival occupied a chair in Gwen's chambers, downing a meal as quickly as was polite. The survivors had foraged and hunted as best they could on their way to Camelot, but they had eaten little. Percival had led them here rather than somewhere in Essetir as he knew King Lot would care little about poor villagers. Leon had been tasked with finding them room in the castle.

Carwyn sat at the table with Percival, eyes burning with fire. Gwen maintained a calm exterior, though the tenseness in her jaw belied her serenity. Merlin stood apart, leaning a shoulder against a window frame, looking out on the dark night as Percival reported.

"It's all been burned to the ground," the former knight spoke between bites. "The houses, the storage, the fields. Everything we worked so hard for." Percival had left three years back, retiring from knighthood to be with his family and take up farming as he'd claimed he would someday. He'd relished the work, and Merlin knew from several visits he'd been content and happy.

"Who did this?" Carwyn ground out. He loved Ealdor as much as Merlin, years of visits and retreats to the peaceful village a delight in his memory.

Percival glanced at Merlin, then Carwyn. "Sorcerers. They didn't wield any weapons, just magic."

"What did they look like?" Gwen asked.

"They wore black robes and masks. They bore no identifying symbol," Percival said. "We tried to fight back...We were no match for them." He bowed his head. "We had to flee. I gathered as many people as I could."

"There's no shame in it," Carwyn declared angrily. "You did what was right."

Percival set grateful eyes on the prince.

"It was Rankin," Merlin murmured by the window.

"But, he's dead," Percival spoke in confusion.

"We have confirmation he isn't," Carwyn informed him.

"We do?" Gwen asked.

Carwyn explained what had happened to Iona, how he and Merlin had expelled the sorcerer from her dreams.

Percival rose from the table. "Where is he?"

"We don't know," Carwyn admitted in frustration.

Merlin suddenly turned and strode from the room without a word.

* * *

"Your home is gone?" Iona asked in shock.

Merlin sat across from her in a chair by the fire. "Everything."

"I'm so sorry." Tears glistened in her eyes.

Merlin nodded to acknowledge her empathy, but stared sternly into her eyes. "It was Rankin. I need to know where he is."

"How will you find him?"

"I don't want to ask this of you...I don't think it's right to violate someone's mind, but I need to enter yours again."

"But he's not there anymore."

"You have memories from when he was. One of them might reveal his location."

Iona took a deep breath and grasped Merlin's hand. "Then do it."

Merlin pressed his fingers to each side of her temple. He felt her tense up. "I won't hurt you," he promised.

"I know," she whispered.

Merlin closed his eyes. "Breostloca geopenap aet mec." This time he entered effortlessly. Images flashed before him, a jumble of pictures frozen at various instances of time. At first it was overwhelming, but Merlin focused his thoughts on Rankin. Slowly one image dominated the others. Merlin heard Rankin's voice, and the one room home appeared around him.

"You're beautiful. He wants you. Give yourself to him." The sorcerer was speaking to Iona standing stiffly at a counter.

"I...I...don't want to hurt him."

"How can loving him hurt him? Rankin coaxed.

"I don't want to _make_ him love me."

"You love him. Let him love you."

Iona turned, her expression angry. "I won't take advantage of him. If he ever loves me, it will be when he wants to, not because I forced it."

Rankin snarled. "You will do it because I tell you to do it."

"No! He freed me. Get away from me."

Rankin's image faded as Iona froze. The room disappeared. Merlin's heart thumped against his ribs. He burst with pride. Iona had stood against Rankin's manipulation... And she loved him.

It took Merlin a moment to shake the memory off and begin his search again. Unsurprisingly, he found himself back in the home a third time, Rankin now sitting in a chair turning the pages of a book.

"So, she didn't die. Not that I expected her to," the sorcerer said.

"Please let me go," Iona pleaded, kneeling at Rankin's feet.

"You might be free sooner than you think. You know what they do to assassins?"

Iona covered her face with her hands.

"Too bad they don't use the axe in Camelot these days. But maybe the noose will snap your neck in one go."

Merlin felt rage boiling in his chest.

"Though I rather think you might live."

Iona lowered her hands. "How? Tell me."

"Just be patient. He might take a liking to you."

"Who?"

Rankin grinned, but didn't answer. He stopped turning the pages of the book and stared at it for a moment. "If only he could see this." He stood and lay the book on a table, then leaned down to grasp Iona's shoulders. "Oh my dear, you are too much like her not to catch his eye."

Merlin moved over to the table, glancing down at the book. His breath caught in his throat. It was a map. His eyes roved over the page. The location was north of Camelot. The room began to fade; Merlin focused on the map, cementing it into his own memory.

Merlin drew back, pulling away from the images now floating passed him. Part of him wanted to keep exploring, read Iona's past, maybe find Freya somewhere within, but he remembered what he'd said. He wouldn't violate her mind.

Merlin's eyes opened. Iona's dark ones stared into his. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Iona nodded. "I didn't feel anything."

Merlin smiled gently. He moved his hands from her temples to her chin, cupping it. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being the woman you are."

Iona smiled with half her mouth. "Did you find anything?" she inquired, pushing an errant hair behind her ear.

Merlin let go her chin and nodded. "I need to go pack." He stood and moved to the door.

Iona stood as well, her voice panicking. "You want to find him?"

Merlin turned to her. "He's not going to get away with this any longer."

* * *

Merlin pushed open the door to his chambers to find candles already alight. He sighted Gwen sitting by the fire. "Gwen," he greeted. He marched to his wardrobe.

"I wanted to talk with you."

Merlin didn't answer, rummaging around.

"Merlin?"

He still said nothing until he felt hands embrace him from behind and Gwen's head rest against his back. "I'm sorry. I know it's not enough to say it, but I am."

Merlin's breath hitched. He'd been trying to avoid this. "I know you are." His throat choked up. He tried to swallow a lump in it. His eyes began to water and he wiped at them and shook his head, pulling several pieces of clothing out of the wardrobe. He drew away from Gwen, moving to his bed and retrieving his pack.

"What are you doing?" Gwen asked.

"I told you it's all about me. Rankin wants me." Merlin began folding and stuffing clothes into the bag.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked fearfully.

Merlin looked up at her with fierce eyes. "If he wants me, he can have me."

Gwen stepped over to him, gripping his arm tightly. "No. This isn't the way."

Merlin glared at her. "No one else is going to get hurt because of me."

"Haven't you thought he might be doing all this to _get_ you to come to him?"

Merlin laughed snidely. "I'm sure that's _exactly_ what he wants."

"Then you're playing right into his hands."

"Yes. I am." Merlin yanked his arm out of her grasp and went to his desk, removing items he might need.

"You don't even know where he is."

"I have an idea."

"This is suicide!" Gwen exclaimed.

"Don't you trust me?"

"It's not a matter of trust."

Merlin shoved several items into pockets on his pack. "I'm more powerful than him."

"But last time..."

"Gwen!" Merlin almost shouted, facing her. "This won't be like last time. I'm not who I was then. He can't hurt me any more. You have to just trust me."

Gwen spoke quietly. "You've always had my trust."

Merlin dropped several items to the bed and moved in front of her, grasping her shoulders. "I know that. So let me do what I have to." He returned to his packing.

"At least wait until morning. You need rest."

Merlin didn't look up. "I leave at dawn."

* * *

Merlin turned a heavy iron key in a lock, pushing a barred door open. He glanced around at various treasured objects. He strode to the back wall to a shelf that was all his. He ran his eye over the objects: a rather plain golden chalice with the power of life, a small wooden cage that had once contained a vial of precious water, a staff with a blue orb at the end, and a small chest containing a crystal he would never look in again. He sighted what he'd come for. He lifted a white staff that spiraled at the top. He ran his hand over the spiral, his face grim.

"It's time you see action again," he whispered. He firmed his grip on the staff and retreated, locking the door behind him. He handed the key to a guard at the end of a hall. The guard stared quizzically at him, but didn't ask any questions.

Merlin picked up a pack he'd left in the hall, hefting it over his shoulder as he made his way to the castle entrance. He bounded down the steps, stopping when he reached the bottom. His horse was saddled and ready as he'd commanded, but three people stood before it. He stared at each in turn, then moved around them to secure his pack and staff to the horse.

"Don't try to stop me," he grumbled.

"We're not here to stop you," Gwen said. She glanced at Iona standing next to her.

"You can't go alone, Merlin. I could help you."

Merlin jerked his head up, scowling at her. "You are _not_ coming."

"She's not. I am." Carwyn spoke.

"You aren't either," Merlin snapped.

"I have to defend Camelot."

"And how are you going to do that if you aren't here?"

"Merlin..."

"This is your place!" Merlin shouted. "You will be king." He looked to Gwen. "Your mother knows this. You have to stay here."

Gwen laid a hand on Carwyn's arm. The young man ground his jaw.

"Merlin, please." Iona's voice broke.

Merlin left his horse to stand in front of the woman who had captured his heart in such a short time. His voice softened. "I need to know you're safe and waiting for me."

Iona blinked back tears. She balanced on her toes to gently kiss his cheek. "Come back."

Merlin nodded, not daring to reply. He pulled away, took two steps towards his horse, then abruptly turned back, closing the distance and sliding his hands behind her head. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. Iona slipped her hands around his waist and pushed into his kiss. He reluctantly broke off, turning away, hardly breathing. He mounted his horse and galloped to the gates without looking back.

Aalef had said Rewi had seen a time of darkness for Camelot when the quality of its magic would be tested. Rankin was dark; he was light. This was _their_ test. _And victory,_ Merlin vowed, _will be mine._

* * *

Carwyn watched Merlin exit the gate.

"I should go back to the kitchens, my la...Gwen," Iona said.

Gwen nodded sympathetically. "Of course." The woman turned, climbing up the steps with a furrowed brow, a hand brushing over her eyelids.

Carwyn locked eyes with his mother. He waited until Iona disappeared, then bolted up the steps, reaching inside the doors to pick up his own pack. He moved back down the stairs to his mother who grasped his hands in hers.

"I have to go after him," Carwyn explained.

"I knew you would. It's what your father would have done."

"Nyra will want to follow."

"I don't think you have to worry about that." Gwen smiled. "She's a mother bear now. She'll protect Brita with her life."

Carwyn smiled back. He embraced her and kissed the top of her head. "Prepare for war. If we don't stop him, he might come here."

"We'll be ready," Gwen assured him.

Carwyn sprinted towards the stables where his horse was already waiting.

* * *

Rankin woke when a hand shook his shoulder. "Master? She's coming. She sent this ahead."

Rankin blinked and accepted the small rolled piece of parchment. He read it over and grinned. "Emrys has left the citadel."

"What now, master?"

Rankin stared into the dark of his room. "How many have come?"

"Multitudes, master."

"Send out couriers to any who have not assembled."

"Yes, master." His faithful servant left the room.

Rankin clenched a hand to his breast. "It's time, Emrys, to end this once and for all."


	39. Hunt

Merlin's horse snorted and shied away when they reached a dense patch of forest blocking their way. He tapped his heels against the animal. "Come on. You're safe." The horse obediently moved forward.

Merlin took stock of his surroundings as he rode. He hadn't come this way in a long time. The Darkling Woods was a tangled mass of trees and vines. A perfect place to hide, and many had over the years, including Merlin's enemies. He straightened in his saddle, recalling his capture at the hands of Morgana and Morgause and being at the mercy of an army of Serkets. He arched his back. He'd never forget the sharp pain of a Serket's sting.

"Why couldn't you stay dead?" Merlin murmured, his mind turned to Morgana's shade. If only things had been different... Merlin pushed regret away. Although he wouldn't choose to face it again, some good had come out of his imprisonment at Rankin's hands—he'd been forced to face his past and put it to rest once and for all. _And I wouldn't have met Iona without Rankin either._ Good could come out of bad, Merlin pondered as he rode. He smiled to himself. After all, his first encounters with Arthur hadn't been exactly cordial.

Merlin sighed. "You know, Arthur," he spoke softly. "I could do with you returning right now." _How long will you make me wait, old friend?_ Merlin ran a hand through his longer hair and grinned. He could imagine what Arthur might say if he saw him. _Good gods, Merlin! What happened to you? What is that rat on your face?_ Merlin scratched at his beard. And he'd be older than Arthur—if he returned at the age he died which Merlin assumed to be the case. Maybe Arthur would have to respect his elders and stop throwing things at him for once.

Merlin coughed, directing his thoughts away from Arthur. It was pleasant to think of his friend for a while, but then the pain grew in his chest and it hurt too much.

Merlin tilted his head when he heard the loud crack of a branch behind him. He kept his horse moving, but listened intently. There! Not far behind him. Rustling through the trees. It could be a bear, but he doubted it. He was sure Rankin expected him, though he hadn't thought he'd meet the sorcerer so soon.

He whipped around, sending his sight out as quickly as he could. He saw a horse and rider. "Carwyn!" he shouted angrily.

The horse began to gallop and Carwyn rode up to him.

"Go back!"

"It's fortunate you aren't royalty," Carwyn retorted. "And I'm of age. I don't have to obey you any more." He trotted passed Merlin. Merlin caught up to his side.

"Camelot needs you."

"Camelot has my mother, the knights, and the warriors. You don't have anyone."

"I have myself," Merlin grumbled.

"And now you have me. That's even better."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't want you coming."

Carwyn looked over at him. "Tell me. How many times did my father try to do something on his own and you went after him?"

Merlin looked away. "Too many," he admitted.

"Now you know how he felt."

Merlin let out a soft chuckle. He rode silently next to Carwyn for a while, glancing now and then at the boy he still thought of as a boy but who was really a man. He was still so young and ideal, full of fire and spirit. All the burdens of king-hood hadn't yet enveloped his soul. "So often I think of how proud Arthur would be of you."

Carwyn inclined his head, listening.

"He would have loved you deeply."

Carwyn coughed and blinked his eyes. "Thank you, Merlin." He turned to the warlock. "Now, stop being sentimental and tell me your plan."

"I don't really have one." Merlin looked straight ahead.

"You're walking into Rankin's hands and you don't have a plan."

"I don't even know what Rankin's game is."

"Do you even have a goal?"

Merlin nodded.

"What?"

"To wipe Rankin and his influence from this land for good."

"Sounds good to me."

"I suppose my only plan is to approach cautiously and figure out where he is and what he's up to. _If_ I manage to do that before he appears on his own." Merlin reached out to touch Carwyn's shoulder. The prince looked at him. "You can come with me, but if he wants to face me, I don't want you involved. Let _me_ take him."

Carwyn nodded. "I will."

* * *

Leon pointed to a map laid out on the round table. "We've already shored up all entrances to the citadel. We've also stationed knights and warriors on the perimeter of the town. We should see any attackers well before they reach us. _If_ they do."

"Merlin should have stayed," one of the council members muttered.

Gwen turned her head to the member. "Merlin left to protect us. We may not face an attack if he is successful."

"I agree with the queen," Leon spoke next to Gwen. "Merlin hasn't abandoned us, and if any rumor suggests it, we shut it down with the truth."

The council member looked away in embarrassment.

Gwen drew in a long breath. "Is there any other business to discuss?" No one spoke. "Then you are dismissed."

Leon remained standing by her seat as everyone else left the room. When they were alone, he sank into the chair usually occupied by Merlin. "How are you, my lady?"

Gwen smiled tiredly at him. "We've had peace for some time, but not long enough. I can't help but think of all the times we were under threat. I don't want to face a crisis again."

"I'm here for you," Leon promised.

"I know, Leon. I can always depend on you."

Leon reached a tentative hand out towards her cheek, then hesitated. "I'm sorry, my lady." He dropped his hand.

"I'm too old," Gwen whispered.

Leon shook his head. "You're still beautiful."

"Perhaps...I mean, Arthur still lives in my heart."

Leon bowed his head. "I am aware you still love him."

Gwen's hand rested against his cheek and he raised his head. "You're a good man, Leon. You've been so faithful to me. I wish I could give you what you want."

Leon smiled gently. "If all you want is me by your side, then that's where I will be."

Gwen smiled. The door to the room opened. Leon straightened, looking to the door. Blaise entered.

"Blaise," Gwen greeted.

"Your majesty."

"Do you need me?"

Blaise considered a parchment in his hand. "I've been organizing the warriors as Emrys instructed, but one of them is missing."

Gwen frowned. "Who?"

"One of our newer recruits. Muriel."

"Have you begun a search for her?" Gwen asked.

Blaise nodded.

"Let me know if she isn't found."

Blaise bowed and left. Gwen looked worried.

"The missing girl concerns you?" Leon asked.

Gwen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Any anomaly is a worry when dark magic is at work."

* * *

"I can't believe Carwyn didn't tell me!" Nyra paced back and forth in the chambers she shared with her husband.

"He thought you might try to follow him," Iona explained. "But you have your baby to think of. He'll want you to guard her."

Nyra gazed on the crying baby in her arms. She nodded soberly. "I couldn't leave her."

"No mother would," Iona said.

Nyra looked over at her. "You've been a mother?"

Iona shook her head. "I didn't have that gift in my life."

Nyra smiled at her. "You wouldn't know it. You're perfect with Brita." She moved over to the woman. "And perhaps you will get that chance."

Iona's cheeks flushed. "I'm beyond child bearing years."

"I think Emrys can do much with magic," Nyra teased.

Iona turned away. "I wouldn't know."

"He loves you," Nyra stated succinctly.

Iona stayed facing away. Her shoulders had begun to shake. Nyra moved over to the woman and put a hand on her back. Iona stuttered. "I...love him, too."

"He'll return," Nyra assured with confidence. "He is Emrys."

Iona said nothing, far less sure. Merlin was powerful, but she had felt the strength of Rankin in her mind. She feared they were far more equally matched than anyone knew.

* * *

After a long day of travel, Merlin halted just at the other side of The Darkling Woods. He and Carwyn set up camp and built a small fire. Merlin had brought only dried berries and meat with him. Carwyn had packed little as well, some bread and a few apples. They shared what they had and relaxed in the fire's warmth.

Carwyn steepled his knees, leaning back, palms braced on the ground. "Before Nyra was poisoned, I'd thought I wanted to go hunting together again."

Merlin regarded him."You wanted time away."

"For both of us. I guess this will have to do."

"You really should go back," Merlin spoke firmly, trying once more.

"Don't ask me to do that," Carwyn said, fear tinging his tone.

Merlin didn't usually sense fear in the prince. "What is it?"

Carwyn swallowed.

"You're afraid."

Carwyn scowled across the fire.

"It's alright to be afraid."

"It's just...it's not Camelot I'm worried about. It's you. What he did to you last time..." Carwyn broke off, lowering his head.

Merlin blew out a long breath. He'd dealt with that, but it seemed those he loved hadn't. "I know who I am now. Rankin may have Morgana's magic. He's strong, but I know I'm stronger. You don't have to worry for me. And if that's why you're here, go back. I don't need you to protect me."

"I'd never let you do this alone," Carwyn protested, raising determined eyes.

Merlin shook his head. "You're as loyal as I was...and just as stupid, too."

Carwyn guffawed. Merlin grinned.

A sudden flapping sounded above them. Merlin glanced up. "You let her come?"

Aithusa alighted on the ground, letting out a string of unintelligible twitterings. She moved her large bulk towards the fire, greeting Merlin with a nudge to his back, then settling down next to Carwyn.

"You know she doesn't like me telling her to stay," Carwyn defended.

"Maybe not, but she's safe that way. I hate to think what Rankin might do if he got his hands on her."

"You sent her away at the battle of Camlann," Carwyn spoke thoughtfully as he scooted backwards to lean against Aithusa's side. The dragon turned her neck and nuzzled his head with her snout. He reached up to scratch her chin.

"I wanted to keep her from attacking Camelot's army," Merlin said, "but I also wanted her protected."

Aithusa whistled lowly, and Merlin knew she understood what he'd said and was thanking him in her own way.

Carwyn looked up at her. "You hear that, girl? Tomorrow, go back to Camelot. They might need you more than us."

Aithusa whined, but laid her head next to Carwyn for him to rub. She'd grown so close to Carwyn, he didn't need to command her with dragon language. She did anything to please him.

"If they're attacked, come back and get us."

Atihusa let an affirming breath huff out of her nose.

* * *

The morning found the warlock and prince riding farther north across plains and hills. They had an advantage being able to see for leagues around. So far they had met no one. The downside was anyone else could also see them coming well before they arrived.

"So you know where he is because of a map in a dream?" Carwyn asked, having finally wondered aloud how Merlin knew where to go.

"It's the only lead I have," Merlin said.

"What are we heading towards then?"

"The map wasn't all that detailed. A location near the convergence of two rivers. We have maybe one more day's travel to it."

"There's nothing much up this way," Carwyn commented.

"A perfect place for a sorcerer to hide himself then." A sudden tingle shot up Merlin's spine. He gasped and halted his steed. Carwyn gripped his horse's reins tightly, trying to breathe.

"Do you feel that?" Carwyn asked.

Merlin nodded.

"What is it?"

Merlin shook his head, but dismounted. He retrieved his staff, brandishing it warily. Carwyn slid off his own horse, withdrawing his sword. He secured the reins in a clump of bush. Merlin did the same, then stood still, closing his eyes. He felt a tug on his magic, like it was being beckoned. He opened his eyes. "This way."

Carwyn's hand clamped down on his arm. "It could be a trap."

"I told your mother," Merlin whispered harshly, "I already know that. I mean to find him and end this, and if it takes a trap for that to happen, then that's fine."

"And you think _I'm_ foolhardy coming out here with you?"

"Yes. You have a wife and child that need you. I don't."

"Coming with you _is_ protecting my wife and child. And you have Iona. Not to mention everyone in Camelot."

Merlin let his thoughts drift back to the woman he'd fallen in love with, then pushed them away. He didn't have time to get tangled up in his emotions. "Just stay back." Merlin locked eyes with Carwyn. "I mean it. I take him. You wait."

Carwyn nodded. "Got it."

Merlin move forwards, following the magical pull. A hill rose in front of him. Merlin climbed it, crouching down. He finally ended up on his belly, slithering forward to peer over the rise. His eyes widened, but then relaxed. He should have guessed. He looked back and gestured to Carwyn.

Carwyn crept up next to him, peeking over the hill. "Gods! How many are there?"

Merlin stared. "At least a hundred." About fifty meters away, a regimented multitude marched forward, clothed in black robes and black masks.

"The sorcerers that attacked Ealdor?" Carwyn asked, voice taut with anger.

"Others," Merlin murmured. Those who attacked Ealdor couldn't have made it this far yet. "He's been building an army." It all made sense now. The book that had been spread around Camelot, driving fear into the hearts of those who practiced any form of dark magic and into those who were afraid any magic restriction was an excuse for a second Purge at the hands of Emrys. All the lies so they would willingly follow Rankin as he attacked Camelot.

Carwyn met Merlin's eyes. He nodded at the warlock's staff. "You can stop them like Camlann."

Merlin stared back at the marching sorcerers, his mind whirring. "They're just the body of the snake. I want its head." Merlin eyed Carwyn. "I have an idea."

* * *

It took some time for Merlin and Carwyn to skirt the marching army, but when they drew close enough to its back, it was simple for Merlin to employ his magic. He concentrated on two straggling sorcerers. His eyes flashed gold and they were yanked backwards towards him and Carwyn.

"Swefe nu," Merlin muttered quickly. The sorcerers fell limp and were quickly pulled into a copse of trees.

Carwyn stared at Merlin. "You're sure you want to do this?"

Merlin nodded. "We have to find Rankin and figure out what he's planning."

"What do we do with these two?"

Merlin crouched down. "They'll sleep for some time." He began to undue the fastenings of a robe. Carwyn did the same to the other unconscious form. Merlin paused and sucked in a breath. "Look."

Carwyn glanced over. Merlin had pulled the sorcerer's right sleeve down and in the process revealed a mark near the collarbone. Carwyn looked up at him. "Enthralled."

Merlin gestured to the other sorcerer. Carwyn pulled down the sleeve. The same mark appeared. Merlin considered the sorcerers. "What if they're all enthralled?"

"His entire army is bound to him?"

Merlin placed a hand to his mouth, thinking. Some of them were probably forcefully enthralled, but there hadn't been a rash of reports of people missing. They certainly could have given themselves willingly. Merlin continued to remove the robe. "If they are, they'll obey every command and do whatever he wants without hesitation."

Merlin stood, sliding his arms into the black robe. He reached down to retrieve the mask. The face beneath was young, a man in his early twenties at the most. _How did this happen to you? What did he tell you to make you do this?_

"They're trapped," he spoke quietly.

Carwyn looked over at him, already clothed in the other black robe.

"Even if they gave themselves to Rankin, they believed his lies. If they march on Camelot, they're going to die for a false cause." Merlin's eyes grew fierce. "We have to stop him before that happens."

"I told you helping you would be helping Camelot." The prince wrapped the cloth mask around his head. Merlin followed suit. "Ready?"

Merlin considered his distinctive staff. "Forsciepap," he commanded. The spiral unwound and the staff turned grey, now appearing as a simple walking stick. "Ready."

The warlock and prince moved swiftly, catching up to the army and slipping in unnoticed.


	40. Vessel

Merlin exchanged glances with Carwyn as they approached a bridge, marching along behind the dark warriors. The magical tug had grown with every step, its pull stronger than anything he'd ever felt, like a magic bell, pealing the call of duty to its soldiers. The enthralled warriors marched without looking to the left or right, and Merlin had come to suspect they couldn't have resisted the call if they wanted to.

When they reached the bridge, Carwyn caught Merlin's arm, the look on his face unmistakably confirming Merlin meant to enter the lair of his greatest enemy. Merlin nodded. Carwyn's expression melted into determination. Merlin almost wished he could argue with the boy one more time, tell him to wait here or go back to Camelot. He knew Carwyn wouldn't obey and although this added to his burden, he felt glad he wasn't entering the dark alone.

An imposing stone castle lay on the other side of the bridge. It had fallen into disuse as evidenced by crumbling stone and broken walls. Merlin wasn't sure of its history. Whoever had occupied it had fallen to the obscurity of time. Once the army marched through the rusting gates, Merlin dashed away, slipping into the shadows of a stairwell. Carwyn slid in across from him.

"What now?" he asked.

"We find Rankin."

"How do you want to to do that?"

Merlin peered up the stairwell. "Let's try this." He began to climb, every so often pushing cobwebs out of his way. Clearly no one had seen a need to ascend this particular stairwell in quite some time. Merlin paused at the exit,making sure Carwyn caught up with him. He stepped into the light of day. They were on top of the outer wall.

Merlin glanced to his left and right. They couldn't move too far to the left before the wall disappeared, but the right was clear. Merlin crouched, creeping behind the parapet. He stopped when he reached a place he could peer over into a main courtyard. Carwyn halted next to him.

Merlin concentrated, sending his sight out. It zoomed this way and that—turning corners, climbing stairs, racing through doors. The castle was alarmingly devoid of the masked sorcerers. Where were they? Merlin honed in on the magical pull, directing his sight along its path. It reached a spiraling tower, zipped upwards and through a window. Merlin blinked and looked to Carwyn.

"I know where he is." He bounded back down the stairs. He paused at the bottom, fixing Carwyn with a hard gaze. "You come behind me. I don't want you near him."

"Merlin..."

"I let you come this far, but I won't let you get between me and Rankin."

Carwyn gazed on him for a couple moments, then nodded reluctantly.

Merlin stepped close to him, lowering his voice. "I didn't raise Arthur's heir for Camelot to lose him. You owe your kingdom your life. Whether you like it or not, you were born to be king and you will be a good one."

Carwyn ran a hand through his curly locks. "You sound like you're saying good-bye."

"I'm saying your loyalty to your kingdom comes before me. Your loyalty to Nyra and Brita. If I face him and lose, you don't fight him. You get out of here."

Carwyn's brow creased and rare tears appeared at the corner of his eyes. "You won't lose."

Merlin had every confidence Carwyn was right, but he'd had too much experience to know what appeared to be a sure thing could sour in an instant. He clapped Carwyn on the shoulder, then left the stairwell, stalking along the path his sight had taken to the tall tower in the center of the castle.

* * *

Merlin didn't pause when he reached the tower. He forged ahead, heart pounding not in fear, but anticipation. This would be the end of Rankin. Camelot's last enemy from the past. The Golden Age would be preserved even if it took all Merlin had left to do it.

Merlin didn't even try to sneak, assuming Rankin expected him. If the sorcerer didn't, it would be a pleasant surprise. He reached the top landing. A door lay down a short hall. Merlin ripped the mask from his eyes and spoke to his staff. "Bemelde." The illusion died away, the staff reforming its spiral. He grasped it tightly, striding down the hall, pointing it at the door. Energy shot from the staff, blowing the door to smithereens. Merlin ran through, swinging the staff to face the blond haired man sitting in a chair at the far end of a round room, an open book resting in his lap.

Rankin didn't stand, simply looked up from his reading. "Emrys. Welcome."

Lightning cracked from Merlin's staff. Rankin didn't move. The electric energy halted, its tendrils spreading out in front of him like vines creeping along a wall.

Merlin cried out. "Too much a coward to face me?"

"Perhaps," Rankin conceded. "Still, I don't think it will take you long to destroy this barrier."

Lightning filled the space between them as the staff shot again, striking the invisible shield once more. The air rippled in front of Rankin.

"Would you really just kill me, even if I didn't fight back?"

"It's justice," Merlin declared.

"Is it? Or is it revenge?"

"This isn't about what you did to me. It's about the people you've destroyed and used."

"Like dear Iona."

Merlin scowled. "And others."

"I'd like to tell you how I found her."

"I'm not interested." Merlin aimed the staff's lightning once more. One tendril broke through the barrier, striking the wall above Rankin's head. Bits of stone showered down on the sorcerer, who set the book in his lap on a side table and stood, his expression a bit more concerned.

" _Be_ interested," Rankin snapped.

"No." Merlin stepped closer.

"I have Freya!" Rankin shouted.

"You're a liar!"

Rankin reached into a pouch hanging from his belt and withdrew a glistening purple crystal. "Have you ever seen one of these, Emrys?"

Merlin stared. He should finish this now! But he hesitated.

"As far as I know, it's the last of its kind." He held it out. "It's a soul gem and its purpose is simple—to trap the soul of an enemy." Rankin spoke softly. "She's here, Emrys. It was she who led me to her sister. Not that she had a choice. My spells compelled her."

Merlin grit his teeth. "Freya isn't here. I know where she is."

"The Lake of Avalon?"

Merlin tried to keep his shock from showing.

"Oh, yes. I learned about your dear Freya. How easy it is for some people to talk when their interests are lauded." Rankin held out his hand. "Muriel, my dear."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the young woman who stepped out from behind a curtain. He was so used to traitors, her appearance hardly surprised him.

"Your scribe shared much when she took interest in your stories. But she did even more than that." Rankin stroked her long black hair. Muriel didn't react. "She's gifted. She can enter a mind effortlessly, implant ideas, dreams. I believe both you and the prince were targeted."

Merlin's mind flashed back to his insistent dream about Freya and Carwyn's dream about his child dying. "Why?"

"To push you both in the right direction. But don't feel too bad." Rankin drew a finger down Muriel's neck and pulled at the collar of her dress, revealing a mark. "She wanted my tutelage, to learn all magic had to offer. I gave it to her for a price."

"Enough!" Merlin shouted. Energy began to crackle at the end of his staff.

Rankin held up the crystal. "Would you kill her?"

"I don't believe you."

"If this gem breaks, Freya will be lost forever, doomed to wander the world as a bodiless spirit."

Merlin grasped the staff so tightly his knuckles went white.

"Here. I'll prove it to you. Gedrysne." The air in front of Rankin shimmered. "The shield is gone. Strike me now if you wish to bind the girl you loved to eternal pain."

Merlin trained the staff on Rankin, but try as he might, he couldn't force himself to do what he knew he should.

Rankin put his lips to the gem. "Maegp forplaednes." The gem began to glow and a voice lilted on the air.

"Merlin...Merlin..."

Merlin's heart stopped. It was unmistakably Freya.

"Help me."

Rankin moved closer. Merlin shook the staff at him in warning. The sorcerer lifted up the gem. Merlin beheld a woman frozen in her youth. A woman who had helped him from beyond the grave. A woman he owed.

"Let her go," Merlin growled.

"I don't intend to keep her. She's yours." Rankin offered the gem to him.

Merlin tilted his head, eying the sorcerer with doubt. "You wouldn't give her to me without a reason."

"No, I wouldn't," Rankin agreed. "Muriel, the book." Muriel retrieved the book Rankin had been pouring over from the side table and walked forward. Rankin took it in his left hand, holding it up for Merlin to see. "Recognize this?"

"Blaise's book. I knew you had it."

"It's been instructive in more ways than one. For instance, I know your secret. You are immortal."

Merlin ground his jaw. "That is far from certain."

"I think it's quite clear. And it means that I am at a severe disadvantage when it comes to you. I can't kill you, so what do I do?"

Merlin was done. He hadn't come here to play Rankin's twisted games. He wouldn't be threatened with Freya. He focused his magic in two directions. Energy arced out of his staff towards the sorcerer. At the same time, he raised his left hand yanking the soul gem towards him. This ended now.

The effects of Merlin's attack happened simultaneously—Muriel leaped in front of the lightning heading towards Rankin, screaming as the bolt impaled her. Merlin's eyes widened in horror for only a second before the gem hit his hand. Rankin had begun to chant. The gem glowed even brighter and Merlin felt his will sap. He staggered back, his mind fogging. His hand shook as he gaped at the gem.

"I never said the gem could hold only one soul." Merlin forced his gaze back to Rankin kneeling next to Muriel who shivered on the floor for a few more seconds, then stilled. Rankin ran a hand through her hair. "I didn't want her to do that." He glared up at Merlin. "Another death on _your_ hands."

Merlin didn't have the time to argue that it was Rankin who'd enthralled her in the first place. He focused all his effort into resisting the draw of the soul gem. He'd tried to drop it, but couldn't. To make matters worse, he heard Freya's whispering voice, though he couldn't make out the words. He sank to the ground, weakened enough he couldn't stand.

"Rankin!"

Anger and fear surged within Merlin. Why couldn't Carwyn obey him at least once? He pushed through the fog, beholding the prince emerging from the hall, fire shooting from his hands at the sorcerer.

Rankin smiled, deflecting the fire with his own powers. "Emrys may be able to fight me, but you are nothing compared to Morgana's power."

Merlin watched helplessly as Carwyn and Rankin shot various spells at each other, neither making much headway. Merlin raised his staff, attempting to split his magic again. The moment he did so, the gem's pull doubled. He dropped the staff. He shoved against the relentless draw, but it felt like he wrestled with a dragon. He was only just holding on. He didn't even have the ability to cry out when Rankin incanted a spell, and Carwyn raised in the air, then crashed to the ground unconscious.

Rankin braced his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. After a time, he picked up the book he'd dropped in the chaos and looked to Merlin. "I learned more from this. Why you had to poison Morgana. Don't worry, Emrys. I don't think you'll be trapped inside the gem, but it will take time to break its desire for you." He ground his jaw. "You killed my sister. You killed Morgana. I have one answer to those crimes—I will take Camelot as mine. Magic will be free on _my_ terms."

Rankin leaned down to Carwyn. "Abyg eow heorte beonne minne." Hot tears sprang up in Merlin's eyes as Rankin chanted, placing a hand on Carwyn's shoulder. Rankin looked over at him. "He's mine now." He looked back at the unconscious prince, moving a hand to his chest and incanting once more.

Merlin's blood ran cold. _No. No. No!_ Carwyn began to glow. Rankin's chant faded. He stood, strode back to the chair and picked up a sword on a table. He walked over to Merlin and crouched down in front of him. "Mordred's sword forged in a dragon's breath. It can break the spell. If you want to save Camelot, you'll have to kill its prince." Rankin laid the sword on the floor before him.

Tears slid down Merlin's cheeks. Rankin spoke a quick spell. Carwyn sat up, eyes lifted to his master.

"Come," Rankin commanded. "You will lead our army to victory."

Carwyn didn't even glance at Merlin as he followed the sorcerer to the stairs.

Merlin could hardly breathe. With his power, Rankin had made Carwyn the vessel for the enthralling spell. The army would answer to Carwyn alone. And the only solution Merlin had ever been offered to such an enchantment was to destroy the vessel.

Merlin's will faded a little more. Freya's voice grew clearer. "Fight, Merlin! Don't give in!" Merlin's eyes glowed fiercely as he struggled against the gem.

* * *

Carwyn paced behind Rankin in a haze. Why was he here again? Rankin led him down a spiral staircase into open air. The prince glanced back and forth.

"Keep up," his master called. Carwyn jogged to his side. They left the castle at its back and the sight that met them awed the prince. An army of several hundred milled about. Rankin smiled at him. "Your soldiers await."

Carwyn stared at them, feeling sudden pride. _His_ army. "What are your orders?"

"We take Camelot. We have no time to delay. They are at your command."

Carwyn stepped up on a nearby crate, eyes gleaming to project his voice. "Soldiers, assemble!" The hundreds awaiting his instructions obeyed in an instant. "Camelot will be ours! Mount up!"

The valley echoed with soldiers climbing onto their mounts. Rankin appeared with a horse. "Yours." Carwyn swung up on it. Rankin mounted his own next to him. "You are brave and strong. Camelot will bow beneath your power."

Carwyn looked to the soldiers. "Move out!" He galloped to the head of the army, leading them towards their goal. He felt something strange drip down his cheek and rubbed at it. He glanced at his damp hand, not sure what it meant. He turned his gaze back towards the south, towards Camelot. Soon it would be reborn, a haven for magic without restraint.

Rankin glanced at the head of his army and smirked. Victory would be his.


	41. Trial

Merlin lay in a shaft of moonlight, eyes fixed on the gleaming orb illuminating him through the window. He didn't move, but the battle for his soul hadn't let up. His hand clenched the gem, stiff and aching from the unrelenting tight grip. Freya's voice had called to him now and then, breaking through the deepening fog in his mind, pushing him to keep struggling.

"Merlin! Merlin!"

Merlin blinked slowly. Her voice was closer now, and he beheld her standing before him. "I...can see you."

"Our souls are mingling." She sounded distressed. "This can't happen."

"Freya..."

"Something is drawing us together," Freya spoke on, frowning. "But this was never meant to be. I had to die and you had to mourn. It was right." She suddenly stepped back. "You love my sister."

Merlin felt the pull strengthen. "I'm sorry." He had betrayed her.

Freya smiled gently. "No, Merlin. I was but the stepping stone to your love for her. You've been so alone. She has helped you love again. What more could I desire for the boy who accepted me without hesitation?"

The corners of Merlin's mouth curled in a smile. "I've loved you all this time."

Freya looked down bashfully. "I've known, but I'm sorry your love for me stopped you from seeking it elsewhere."

"I couldn't ask a woman to join me in my burdens."

"Ask Iona. Love her."

"I do, but..."

"You need _her_ to be complete, not me." She spoke her last two words slowly, as if something had just occurred to her. "He needed _me_ to get you. Not just my sister...Merlin, I know why you can't let go." Merlin's hand strengthened around the gem. Freya came close to him. "You have to stop loving me."

"No...That can't be it."

Freya's eyes darted back and forth as she thought. "It must. I've felt the pull of your love for so long and now it draws you to me. Oh, Merlin. We were young. I can't be your love anymore. Let Iona fill every part of your heart, even the one you covet for me."

"I don't want to forget you." A tear escaped the corner of one eye.

"Not forget, but live in the present." Freya's expression became fierce. "You must stop Rankin or Camelot is lost. Iona will die. And everyone you hold dear. I am already gone. Let me go."

"I...can't."

"You must! You are Emrys. Without you, the Once and Future King cannot rise again."

Merlin breathed deeply. It was as he suspected.

"If you are trapped, Arthur cannot appear. After all you have suffered, you cannot let it end like this. Love Iona fully and fight for Arthur!"

Merlin's hand shook. He stared at Freya's pleading eyes. His memory of his time with her flashed through his mind. He relived each moment—hiding her, comforting her, kissing her. His lips trembled. "Good-bye, Freya."

Freya smiled. "For a time. Take me home, Merlin." Her visage began to fade.

Merlin closed his eyes. He drew Iona in his mind's eye, a woman hurt by time and trial, but still strong, like himself. They were two aged and damaged people finding love when all expectations of it had been lost. He was not a youth anymore, and youthful love had no place.

"Iona," Merlin breathed. His hand loosened. The gem slipped to the floor. Merlin took several deep breaths, still staring at the glorious moon. He pushed up on his elbows. His muscles tensed, his hand seized, but he was free. He looked down at the purple gem appearing black in the night. He hesitantly brushed it with the tip of a finger. Nothing happened. He picked it up and slipped it into a pocket.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He slowly stood, grimacing at the aches and pains of being inactive for so long. He retrieved his staff and walked to the window, looking towards Camelot. He turned on his heel after a moment, considering the sword with a missing tip lying on the floor. He gingerly picked it up. He was free of the soul gem, but another darkness shadowed his mind. Could he defeat Rankin without killing Carwyn?

He couldn't waste time figuring it out now. He carried the sword with him as he ran down the hall and careened down the spiral staircase.

* * *

Gwen awoke to warning bells and a fist pounding on her door. She had trained herself over the years to respond to such by quickly throwing on a robe and steeling herself for bad news by the time she reached the door. Even so, she'd never been able to entirely banish anxiety from her heart. Leon stood on the other side.

"My lady, a patrol along the northern edge of the woods has returned. They report an army moving this way."

Gwen stared at Leon for a few fleeting moments as questions formed in her mind. Had Merlin failed? Had Carwyn been with him? Or were they simply delayed? It didn't matter. As much as she wanted to cry or scream in sorrow, years of being queen had trained her to push personal emotion aside to serve her people. She had come to understand how Arthur had been able to appear so stoic when the people close to him were in peril.

"Summon the knights," she ordered. "Enact our plan to secure the citadel and town. The warriors should be dispatched immediately."

"Yes, my lady." Leon made to move away, but Gwen gripped his arm to stay him.

"I want Percival with Nyra and Brita. We must protect the heir to the throne."

Leon read her fears in her words–—Carwyn could be dead. He nodded succinctly, then pulled away to march down the hall.

* * *

Merlin found his horse and Carwyn's. He couldn't lead the prince's without slowing himself down, so he released it. "Agencym huswiste." She would find her way back on her own.

Merlin mounted his horse, leaning down to whisper in its ear, "Awegflieh!" The horse took off, galloping with more speed than possible. Merlin was certain Rankin would have marched through the night. He knew from his readings on enthrallment people under such curses could endure far more than was normal, especially if the one who enthralled them had the power or stamina to sustain them. Carwyn had both in abundance.

Merlin hardly paid attention to the scenery that passed, so enveloped was he in his own mind. He was reliving a time when he had fought beside Arthur once more. Of course, not that Arthur knew. He smiled despite his predicament. He'd used his magic in the heat of battle like he often did. He'd been wounded, and Arthur had proudly declared it his first battle wound. He'd been amused by the prince's pride and still was, like he'd done something glorious by getting hurt.

Merlin's face fell as he let more of the memory wash over him. They'd arrived back at Camelot to find the people within in an enchanted sleep. It hadn't made sense. The castle was soon under attack from the dead, and he and Arthur were desperately trying to protect the king...and Morgana was there. _"How do I stop her?" "That is easy, young warlock. You must kill her."_ Merlin's hands tightened on his horse's reins.

Had killing Morgana been his only option then? When he'd met her shade, he'd realized he could have revealed his magic. Could have told her what was truly happening. He needn't have kept it from her if he'd been brave enough. But Carwyn? He was enthralled to Rankin. No amount of explanation would do. He would have to kill Rankin first then, but what if that wasn't possible?

It suddenly occurred to Merlin that Rankin might simply hide himself for the duration of the battle to take himself out of the equation. Merlin cried out in frustration as he zipped down the grassy plains. There had to be a way to save both Camelot _and_ its prince!

* * *

"Shhhh, little one. You're alright." Iona rocked Brita in her arms. The baby had been restless. Iona wondered if she could sense what was happening. Soon after the warning bells had awakened Iona from sleep, a knight had knocked at her door. Behind him stood Nyra cradling Brita and a servant with the cradle. The queen had thought it best for Nyra and Brita to take shelter away from their usual chambers in case enemy soldiers broke into the citadel.

Iona glanced to the side at Nyra. She had insisted on having her armor brought to her and was currently strapping it on. The door opened. Percival appeared, clothed in his own armor. His wife and daughters entered. Iona shared greetings with them; Nyra ignored them. She looked to the older knight. "What news?"

"The army will be here by morning," Percival replied.

"I'll join the warriors."

Percival put his hands on his hips. "I was commanded to keep you safely here."

Nyra scowled. "My place is with my warriors."

Percival met her eyes. "I mean no disrespect, but your place is with the heir to the throne."

Nyra's jaw clenched. "Carwyn's not dead."

Percival's eyes lost their ferocity. "No one has said he is."

Nyra threw out a hand. "Everything we're doing screams it!" She ran a hand over her eyes. "We are bonded. I would know if he had died, and he has not."

"Nevertheless," Percival spoke gently, "you need to think of your child."

"I am! I will fight for her."

Percival stepped close to Nyra, laying a hand on her arm, and speaking quietly. "You know me. I don't run from a fight, but when Ealdor was taken, I had a duty that went beyond fighting." His eyes flicked to his wife and daughters huddled on the bed. "You cannot be the same as you were."

Nyra stared into his eyes, the knight's wisdom born of age unassailable. Nyra turned away, walking to Iona and looking down at Brita. "He's not dead," Nyra muttered, then looked pointedly at Iona. "Neither of them are."

Iona blinked back tears. She'd tried to push thoughts of Merlin away, to deny the dread in her heart. She had no magic to bond her to him, no promise of lifetime commitment. They had only a short time of personal moments snatched here and there. Would she sense if he were dead or alive?

Iona shifted the calming babe in her arms. She had only his last words to sustain her— _"I need to know you're safe and waiting for me."_

 _I am, Merlin. I'm here. Don't make me wait forever. Come back to me._

* * *

Carwyn crested a hill, gazing down on a town with a castle at its back. Camelot, he knew. He'd been born and raised there. He was supposed to take its throne. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him. He would have its throne _today._

"The sun will rise in less than an hour," a voice spoke next to him.

Carwyn glanced at the man beside him. He wasn't quite sure how he knew him, but he trusted him completely. "We should attack now."

"Dawn will be soon enough, I think," the man replied.

"Yes. At dawn."

Rankin smiled. "We want them to see your victory. To behold the strength of their king."

Carwyn grinned. Yes. Of course. Let them see who would rule them from this day forward.

* * *

Merlin rested against a tree, letting his horse regain its strength. He followed the path of the army before him, the ground trampled down by hundreds of horse's feet. His arms were folded across his chest, one hand raised to his lips as he thought deeply. There had to be answer.

"What is it, Arthur? What am I supposed to do? I can't kill your son."

Merlin glanced up at the clear sky twinkling with starlight. Dawn wasn't far away. The sun would rise.

"I need you now. When is our need going to be great enough for you?"

Merlin sighed. Arthur wouldn't return now. It wouldn't make sense for him to be immortal if Arthur's return were so soon. No, he suspected he wouldn't see his friend again for a very long time. In the meantime, he'd try not to lose his kingdom.

Merlin snapped up his horse's reins, mounting once more and galloping south.

* * *

"Roll those," Reynfrey commanded, pointing at cloth torn for extra bandages. Those assigned to aid the wounded that would inevitably seek care complied. Blaise entered the transformed hall, moving towards the physician.

"The warriors are all where they should be, except..."

"Yes?" Reynfrey inquired as he continued his preparations.

"Muriel. We never found her."

Reynfrey's brow creased. "Who is she?"

"A new recruit." Blaise rubbed at his forehead. "I can't help but wonder if she was a spy."

"From who?"

"Rankin."

Reynfrey paused, turning. "Rankin was strong, but we killed him." The physician had been in doubt all this time that their enemy was the sorcerer they'd defeated years ago.

"He's surely alive. Emrys expelled him from Iona's mind."

Reynfrey shook his head, muttering as he went back to work. "Why does no one tell me anything?"

Blaise smiled. "Sorry. They don't tell me a lot, either."

"Is Merlin back?"

"No." Blaise's voice sounded quiet and troubled.

Reynfrey hesitated for a brief moment. "He'll be back."

"I hope so."

Reynfrey looked up at him. "If anyone can survive Rankin, he can."

Blaise nodded, then glanced around the room. "Well, this is where the queen wants me. What can I do?"

"Bandages," Reynfrey pointed.

Blaise wandered to a table, picking up a cloth and winding it. He paused, closing his eyes. His magic was so small, but he pushed it outward anyway, seeking Emrys. Sometimes he could sense him when he was near. Nothing. He sighed, wishing he had the same confidence as the physician.

* * *

Merlin rode like the wind—literally. He'd conjured a wind that pushed his horse forwards. The army before him had moved at an even quicker speed than he'd anticipated. They had so much magic at their disposal. He'd begun to think of his own warriors and their training. Were they strong enough to resist an army of dark magic?

Rewi had warned him of a test. He'd tried to make her prophecy fit himself and Rankin, but it was broader than that. This truly was a trial for the kingdom. He sensed that at the end of the day, they would know the "quality of its magic."

Merlin grit his teeth and balled his fists. He hadn't spent his whole life on the Pendragons, hadn't protected magic all these years, to let it all collapse at the hands of one man out for revenge. He might have failed Arthur. He might have made the wrong choices many times in his life, but not now. Now he knew what came first. Arthur had taught him all those years. He had watched the man he called friend and king constantly set aside himself for the good of his kingdom.

"It doesn't matter who I love or care for," Merlin muttered to himself. "Camelot must be preserved." Even if it meant the death of the one he held dearer than any on earth.


	42. Battle

Carwyn twitched in agitation on his horse. "I should ride with them!"

"Be patient," the blond headed man next to him advised. "Let your army take the town. You have a far greater goal."

"And that is?"

"We must reach the Citadel. Nothing will matter unless we eliminate those who threaten your rule."

"Yes. Of course," Carwyn agreed, though he still watched unhappily as the army marched towards the town. It somehow felt wrong not to be at the front with them, but Rankin's words stalled his impulse.

"I will deal with the queen. You need to find the heir. Remove her, and your throne is secure."

"Yes," Carwyn agreed. Any heir would have to die to make way for the true ruler of the throne.

* * *

Gwen stood on the battlements with Leon next to her, watching an army of black robed sorcerers approach the lower town.

"I should be down there," Gwen mumbled. She had already dressed in her armor and strapped a sword to her side.

Leon shook his head. "No, my lady. Follow the plan the council has devised. You have no magic, and it is certain Rankin will seek you above all others."

Gwen folded her arms across her chest. "Arthur would never stand here and do nothing."

Leon spoke gently. "Arthur would have left Camelot without a king if he had ever died. We need you. We can't lose the last of the Pendragons."

"You think Carwyn is dead," Gwen whispered.

"I...didn't mean to imply... Gwen, I don't think..."

Gwen smiled sadly. "I know you didn't mean to, but it's the truth. He could be dead." She swallowed hard, covering the emotions she had hidden since news of the army came to her. "If Rankin makes it to the citadel, I _will_ fight."

"I'll be with you," Leon vowed.

Gwen looked up at her long time friend. "Thank you, Leon."

"My queen," Leon answered, his gaze softened with love.

Gwen looked back to the lower town. She thought of Droyn, Moeris, Pello, and Phipp, all leading their warriors into battle on various fronts. Knights would await to back them up, but this would be a contest of sorcerers. From what she had seen, their forces were so small compared to the hundreds marching on them. They could easily be overwhelmed. There was only one man she thought could truly stand against them. _Merlin, where are you?_

* * *

Merlin rode hard, his horse's hooves pounding deep impressions into dark earth, his cloak flapping in the breeze. He stared straight ahead, sending his sight out in a constant stream, seeking the easiest and quickest path forward. The forest he passed through now was like an old friend. Camelot was near.

* * *

Blaise had followed the warriors out, standing far back, observing them fan out in readiness for the approaching army. He wasn't sure who fired first, but within seconds, spells were being shot every which way. Knights rushed in when gaps appeared. His job was to stay back and see to the wounded. He didn't have long to wait.

Within minutes, several warriors were stumbling his way, too hurt to keep up the fight. Many fell where they stood. Blaise began shouting orders to those with him, carting those in need back towards the citadel. The chaos moved his direction—fire, lightning, concussive forces, all of it zipping around him from every direction. When it came too close, he draped the arm of a wounded warrior over his shoulders and staggered back towards the citadel.

He hit the ground when a bolt of lightning cracked the stone directly in front of him. He covered the wounded warrior with his body, hearing pounding feet and screams echo around him. He raised his head, his heart battering his ribs. He couldn't distinguish Camelot's warriors from those assaulting the town, so fierce was the battle.

When the action around them calmed for a moment, Blaise hauled the warrior to his feet and pulled him to the side, sheltering him against the wall of an abandoned home. He assessed the warrior's stunned expression and blackened clothing. The man was breathing so shallowly. If only he had been able to master even a small healing spell!

The battle thinned, the action moving closer to the citadel. He wouldn't be able to get the warrior up the main road. He set the man on his feet and aided him around homes and through twisting back streets until he reached the main gate. He paused, unable to proceed through the fighting. He heard a harsh sound then that chilled him to the bones. He turned to stare back down the lane.

"Aithusa, tin katapolemisi Camelot!"

Blaise had only heard the dragon tongue from Emrys, and then sparingly. Emrys hadn't told many he was a Dragonlord at all. Now Blaise beheld the crown prince astride a strange horse, crying out in the deep language of dragons. He'd not known Carwyn possessed the ability, and for one moment hope rose in his heart, then the dragon appeared. He gaped in awe as a white dragon landed before the prince. The blond man next to Carwyn seemed just as shocked.

"Tin katapolemisi Camelot!"

The dragon screeched, but didn't move, shuddering violently.

"Tin katapolemisi Camelot!" Carwyn cried louder.

The dragon dropped, cowering to the ground. As Blaise watched, he realized she was refusing to follow Carwyn's orders. She shook, heartrending whimpers and squeals coming from deep within as burns flamed along her body.

 _This isn't Carwyn,_ Blaise thought, fear gripping his heart. Rankin. The man next to him had to be Rankin, and he had taken their prince. Blaise drew his sword. He strode forwards, stepping in front of the wounded beast.

"Leave her alone!"

The blond haired man had recovered from his shock and ran an uninterested eye across Blaise as if he were simply an annoying insect. "Will the dragon obey you?" he addressed Carwyn.

"She's supposed to," Carwyn grumbled.

"Incapacitate her. We might yet be able to break her will. And get rid of this weakling."

Rankin rode forward. Carwyn turned wrathful eyes on Blaise. Blaise gulped, but stood his ground. "My prince. Come awake."

Carwyn slowly grinned. "I've never been more alive." He raised his hand.

* * *

Gwen marched down the steps into the courtyard. She would wait no longer. She didn't care if Rankin was after her. She wouldn't hide behind walls. Leon kept pace with her, always by her side as he had been at Arthur's. As she glanced at him—his graying hair and beard, his wrinkling face—sudden regret assailed her. She should have let him into her heart. She had thought she was being loyal to Arthur, but it occurred to her Arthur would never have denied her love with another. He would have wanted her happy.

Gwen stopped in front of the assembled knights, setting aside her personal feelings as she had for years. She couldn't go back. She could only take the way forward. She held her sword aloft. "You are knights of Camelot! You stand for bravery and courage and all that we hold dear in this land. One of you are worth ten of your enemy. We fight today for our country, our people, our law, our rule! For the love of Camelot!"

The knights echoed her cry, raising their swords. Gwen turned to face the gate. Battle cries, screams, clashing swords, and magical explosions sounded outside. The gate shattered to pieces. Gwen brandished her sword, running forth to meet the incoming enemy.

Warriors poured into the courtyard, still at battle against the black masked forces. Gwen and her knights charged up to them, taking advantage of every slip up from the enemy sorcerers. Gwen fell into a rhythm, her training ingrained in her. She slashed, parried, thrust, stabbed, using her thin frame and lack of height to her advantage, moving with incredible precision and speed. Until she saw a horse ride through the gate.

Gwen stared, open mouthed. Her heart leaped. "Carwyn!" she called out. Then she saw a man with long blond hair tied back ride up beside him and turn his eyes on her. There was no mistaking the malice and vengeance.

"The queen comes to me!" he cried out. He turned his head to Carwyn. "Kill the heir!"

Gwen's stomach clenched. She felt the world slow as Carwyn's gaze passed over her, and he turned away, galloping towards the castle. Rankin grinned and raised his hand.

"Gwen!" Leon's hand was on her arm, yanking her out of the way as fire shot towards her. The knight dragged her back towards the castle steps. The blond sorcerer screamed in anger as knights and warriors assaulted him on all sides.

Gwen caught sight of Carwyn battling against Camelot's knights, those who had thought to let him pass then found themselves falling under his prowess.

"Carwyn!" Gwen shrieked. He didn't even glance at her. Gwen struggled against Leon, fighting his hold on her. Leon didn't let up, not until he had reached the inside of the castle and pressed her against a wall.

"My son!" she cried out, pushing against him.

"Gwen, no!" Leon shouted. "Stop!"

Gwen went still, breathing so hard her chest ached.

"Gwen...He's enthralled."

"No, no," she muttered, tears escaping her eyes.

"It's why they didn't return." Leon choked up. He grasped her head with his hands, looking her in the eye. "He's not your son now. He'll kill you if he sees you."

Gwen covered her eyes with her hands, sobs wracking her body. Leon pulled at her arm again. "We must protect you." He guided her down the hall, seeking shelter.

* * *

"There's fighting in the courtyard," Percival reported, shutting the door to Iona's room. "We need to barricade the door with anything we have."

Iona made to set Brita down, but the baby whimpered.

"Just hold her," Nyra commanded as she helped he knight and his family pull the heavy oak table towards the door.

Iona held the babe close to her chest. She paced back and forth, shushing her and glancing at the door. Nyra came back to her, grasping her arm. "Whatever happens, Brita must be saved."

Iona met the Druid's fierce grey eyes. "I will protect her."

"Don't stay here for me. Take care of her."

"I promise."

Nyra drew her sword, facing the door. She closed her eyes, drawing on the magic within herself, letting it caress her, purify her, focus her.

Iona stared at the meditating Druid. She wished she had the ability to be so calm and courageous. Her heart was trembling with fear, for her, for Brita, for Nyra, for Merlin.

 _Merlin. If you can hear me at all, we need you. We need you now!_

* * *

Merlin paused when he reached the lower town. His horse could go no further; he'd pushed it beyond exhaustion. He dismounted and stared in disbelief. Bodies littered the thoroughfare—knights, warriors, sorcerers. He turned to his horse, retrieving Mordred's sword and sliding it into his belt. He would do what he had to. He marched down the lane towards the citadel. This was his home and he would have it back.

He slowed when he came close to the main gate, beholding a crumpled white mass laying before it. He dashed to Aithusa's side, placing a hand on her leathery skin. Her heart beat strong in his ears. She slept, but oh, her state! She was burned in splotchy patches. Merlin bit back tears. "Gelacne innan faerenge." His hand tingled as her magic responded to his words, beginning a healing process.

"E-Em-rys."

Merlin moved around Aithusa towards a voice. "Blaise!" He ran to the side of his scribe, kneeling next to him. The boy's face was burned, the hands attempting to cover his wounds grotesquely misshapen. Merlin let out a hoarse cry. He gripped Blaise's arms. "Licsar ge stadol nu." The boy sighed in comfort, a small smile gracing his face. He slipped unconscious.

Merlin stood, facing the main gate. His eyes flickered. How many times had he seen Camelot under attack? How many times had he been forced to face the deaths of friends and innocents? No more. This ended here. He raised his staff and screamed.

* * *

Lightning shot through the sky above Camelot. Rankin glanced upwards with widening eyes. Within seconds, dark storm clouds had formed, swirling in tumultuous waves, spinning faster and faster. "Emrys," he growled. He urged his horse forward, crying out spell after spell to throw down his opponents. He made it to Carwyn's side. "We have no more time! Emrys is here!"

Carwyn nodded once, grasping his horse's reins and kicking its sides. It charged forwards as Carwyn held out his other hand, blasting fire with deadly accuracy. They reached the steps. Rankin leaped from his horse, running up them, Carwyn hot on his heels.

* * *

Merlin sped straight down the road that led to the main gate of the Citadel, staff lifted high. Black clouds rumbled, blotting out the sun, plunging the city into shadow. Electric pulses flashed within the gathering storm. Merlin reached the gate. Masked soldiers turned to face him, raising hands.

Merlin flinched. He had no desire to kill those enthralled. How many were completely innocent? But he no choice, just as he hadn't so many years ago at Camlann. _Carwyn_ , his heart grieved. Lightning crackled across the clouds, then struck out. Merlin's aim was sure. Multiple enemy soldiers were felled with one bolt. Merlin concentrated on making a way through them, trying to spare those he could. He passed them at a run when a gap had widened enough for him to slip through.

The courtyard was a shambles of bodies, wounded, and broken stone. Moans of pain and anguish clogged the air. Merlin ignored it all, seeking out Rankin and Carwyn. They weren't in the courtyard.

"Merlin!"

Pello ran towards him. The lanky man about fell into him. Merlin caught his arms to steady him.

"They're in the castle! And Carwyn is with them. He's enthralled!"

Merlin didn't waste time saying he knew. "Where's Gwen?"

"Leon took her inside. I don't know where."

Merlin looked out over the fighting. He closed his eyes, his vision shooting upwards to the sky. He beheld the courtyard as if he were cloud himself. The world slowed. The cloud churned, lightning zinged downwards, flattening soldiers to the ground.

"Merlin," Pello mumbled in awe.

Merlin ignored him. He ran forwards, eyes flashing gold as he leaped into the air. His spell flung him over the battle, tossing him onto the castle steps. He let out a cry when he landed, his breath momentarily knocked out of him. He sucked in air, fighting how tired he felt at expending so much energy at once. "Must keep going," he strained out. He pushed himself to a stand and stumbled up the stairs.

* * *

Rankin tugged at Carwyn's arm. "Where would they hide the queen?" Carwyn stared at him uncomprehending. Rankin shook him. "Where would your mother go?"

Carwyn blinked. "The vaults."

Rankin smirked. He'd studied the citadel intimately. Former servants would give away much if persuaded sufficiently. "You must get to the heir without delay."

"Yes," Carwyn agreed. He took off down another hall.

Rankin grinned as he turned in the opposite direction. "Good luck, Emrys. He must be your first concern."

* * *

Merlin ran as his sight went ahead of him. He had no trouble at all searching the castle. This was home. He drew in a shaky breath when he found Carwyn. The prince was inside his chambers, a sword to a servant's throat. Why _his_ chambers?

Merlin watched as the servant said something, then Carwyn thrust his sword through the man's neck. He collapsed. "No," Merlin whispered. Was he too late? But Carwyn's visage was one of anger, not victory. Horrified realization struck. Carwyn was after his own child. Brita had beem moved, but where?

Carwyn stalked back down the hall with assurance. Merlin turned corners and flew down halls, slowing every so often to throw his sight and see where Carwyn was going. The prince had stopped before a door. He spoke a spell and the door caved in. Merlin's chest burned. It was Iona's room.

* * *

Nyra roared a warrior's cry when the door blew off its hinges and the oak table slammed against the far wall. Percival's wife and daughters screamed. The knight stood beside her. Iona crouched down in a corner, Brita tucked against her chest.

Nyra smiled widely when she saw who entered. "Carwyn!" She ran to her husband. She'd known he was alive, and she'd been proven right. She made to grasp his arms, but he raised his sword and slashed at her. She backed up. "Carwyn."

"Where is the child?" he spoke threateningly.

"Brita?"

"He's enthralled!" a voice cried out.

Nyra jerked her head to Iona, then back to Carwyn. Her arm was grasped by Percival who pulled her back and stood in front of her.

"She isn't here," Percival declared.

Carwyn frowned, then grinned. "My wife would never leave her. She's there." He pointed with his sword to Iona. Iona curled herself around the babe.

"Ar-nh!" Percival's voice came out in a mighty grunt as he slashed at Carwyn. The prince evaded the blow with ease. His eyes glowed and Percival was thrown head over heels into the oak table. An audible snap cracked through the air and he lay still.

Nyra blocked Carwyn's path. "Carwyn, it's Nyra. Please."

Carwyn didn't even glance at her. His hand shot out, backhanding her across the face. Nyra stumbled, but regained her footing almost instantly. Her eyes flashed and Carwyn was thrown against a wall. She came at him with her sword, but he was on his feet already. He met her thrust with a slash of his own and pushed her backwards.

"Don't do this!" Nyra cried. "Don't let him win!"

Carwyn fought on, her words nothing to him. Objects from all around the room were thrown at him, Nyra hoping to divide his attention as she continued to fight. Carwyn blocked all her blows and every object. He thrust out at her and she jumped away just in time. He came after her, his blows falling so fast and furious she could hardly keep up. One broke through. Nyra cried out as her side exploded in pain. She buckled to her knees. Carwyn smirked.

Iona saw her chance as the prince stood over his wife. She rushed towards the door. Carwyn whipped around. Iona felt herself pulled back into the room. Her back hit a wall with a thud and she groaned. Carwyn stalked towards her, eyes agleam with nothing but blood lust. Iona tried to hide Brita against her, but she couldn't move. Carwyn stopped in front of her, looking down into the child's innocent brown eyes.

"She's your child," Iona managed to mutter. Carwyn's hand flew up, encircling her neck and squeezing tightly. Iona gasped for breath. "Remember...you...must..." Stars appeared in her vision, her arms beginning to go limp.

"Carwyn!"

Iona gasped in precious air when Carwyn let her go, twirling around. She pressed into the wall, and hugged the baby to her chest. "M...m..." she couldn't get the word out, but he was here. Merlin had returned.

* * *

Merlin steeled himself as Carwyn turned to face him. "The warlock," the prince growled. "Emrys."

"Aliese ponne manne ond adee fram wealsadan!" Merlin shouted the spell of unenthrallment.

Carwyn laughed. "He said you'd try that. It won't work."

Merlin hadn't really expected it to be that easy. He was sure Rankin had linked Carwyn's enthrallment to the vessel spell. His only option was to destroy the vessel, and Rankin had told him the way—Mordred's sword.

"Carwyn, don't make me kill you," Merlin pleaded as he withdrew the sword. "You aren't the leader of this army. You're the prince of Camelot."

Carwyn sneered. "Today I become king."

"You will some day. This is not the day. Carwyn..."

"He said not to let you talk. Just get the job done."

Carwyn's eyes flared gold as he turned and raised his hand towards Brita. Fire flamed. Iona turned, her back absorbing the blow. She screamed and hunched over.

"Iona!" Merlin rushed at Carwyn with the sword. The prince turned, lifting his own. Merlin knocked it from his hands with one movement.

"Unstyrigende!" Merlin shouted. Carwyn flew backwards, pinned to the wall. He struggled, but it was useless. Merlin stalked towards him. He lifted the sword above his head. It bobbed up and down in Merlin's shaking hold. He cringed at the memory of a dark haired woman he'd once called friend choking on poison. Fate had once again made him a hand of death. A tear dripped down his cheek.

 _Merlin._

Merlin started, eyes darting back and forth. The voice he'd heard floated on the air, whispering throughout the room.

 _Merlin._ Another voice, different, yet familiar.

He backed up from Carwyn, glancing every which way. There! An image, a person? Something white and ethereal, there for one moment, faded the next.

 _Merlin._

Merlin tilted his head. "Will?" His eyes flickered gold. Time slowed. The white image came into focus—a boy so young, a face so familiar. "Will." His old friend shimmered. Merlin gaped in amazement.

 _You're a good man, Merlin. A great man._

Merlin tilted his head. He'd heard these words before. In Ealdor, right before Will died.

 _I'm so proud of you, my boy._

Merlin turned to his right. "Mother." His eyes welled with tears. Was she really here? But this was impossible. Was this another trick of Rankin's to distract him?

 _You know, Merlin, you're the one Arthur should knight. You're the bravest of us all and he doesn't even know it._

Merlin glanced to his left. Now Lancelot had appeared. "Why are you here?" Merlin asked. Why these words from the past? Why now?

 _I put my life in your hands every day, Merlin, as does Arthur and Gwen and all of Camelot. You're the one who holds the fate of this kingdom in the balance._

"Gaius,'' Merlin breathed out, taking in the shimmering white image of the man who had been father to him. The images wavered, moving about him as wafting mist, fragile, as if one breath would snuff them out.

 _A servant who's extremely brave. And incredibly loyal, to be honest. Not at all cowardly._

Merlin spun around, hardly daring to breathe. "Arthur?" The palest image of all glimmered in a corner, barely recognizable.

 _Merlin._

Merlin turned back towards Carwyn. "Father," he whispered to Balinor who stood in front of the prince, his form more solid than the others.

 _Merlin. Remember. You always have been and always will be._ His voice faded. The images quivered, growing dimmer.

Merlin turned in a circle. "Why do you tell me these things? What does it mean?"

Freya's voice came from the gem in his pocket, weak, but clear. _You know who you are, Merlin. Born of earth and sea and sky. Enduring until the end of time. Do what needs to be done._

Time was beginning to flow again. Merlin glanced down at the sword in his hands. He looked at Carwyn pinned to the wall. The boy he loved. The boy he'd linked himself to with magic. The boy he'd saved. "Always will be," Merlin murmured. He stepped closer to Carwyn.

Merlin lifted the sword. He firmed his jaw. The sword flipped in his hands, and he thrust it into his own gut as hard as he could.


	43. Light

Merlin writhed. He'd felt the touch of the sword forged in a dragon's breath before when Rankin had imprisoned him, and Mordred's shade had appeared. But that had been only a nick. Now its full potential burst forth. Flames scorched inside him, traveling in his veins and through his heart. He clenched a fist to his chest, mouth gaping as he tried to breathe. Whatever wound he had caused to his gut was nothing compared to this.

 _This was stupid, Merlin,_ he chastised himself through the pain. He'd listened to the words from the past, and his own suspicions concerning his immortality. He'd acted on impulse, making assumptions that felt like a sure bet. What if he'd read the signs incorrectly? What a time to put himself to the test!

The fire inside licked at his skin, threatening to burn a hole out of its captivity. Merlin couldn't even scream. He flailed and kicked, sweat streaming out of every pore. Then he heard someone else scream. He threw his head back to look—Carwyn had slipped to the floor, clutching at his own chest.

Merlin felt magic wafting towards him from the prince like cool waves on a hot, sandy shore. He was so desperate, he drank it in and slowly the flames reduced, dying to embers and then snuffing out entirely. He peered at the sword stuck through him. He sat up and gingerly withdrew it, watching in awe as the wound cauterized as the sword left his body. _It is true_ , he marveled, hardly able to believe it. _It can't kill me. I am immortal._ The implications of such a thing hit him full force and tears sprang to his eyes, but one glance at Carwyn brought him back to the moment,

He crawled over to the prince, placing a hand on his chest, fear clenching his heart. Their magic bond was weakening quickly. He waited until it failed, then summoned all his power and spoke a spell. "Asaele ponne manne eac andweardnes." Carwyn stiffened and his chest stilled. Merlin swallowed a choking sob.

"Emrys."

Merlin looked over at Nyra trying to come towards him, a hand at her bleeding side. He pushed himself up from the floor, staggering to meet her. He knelt down on one knee. "How bad is it?"

"I will live," the Druid stated through gritted teeth, wide eyes on him. Merlin pulled her hand away and replaced it with his own.

"Ic haele pina prowunga."Nyra's breathing eased. Merlin left her, turning to Iona who trembled against the far wall. The back of her dress had been burnt away, and Merlin felt sick at the bright red wounds crossing her back.

"Iona," he called softly as he knelt next to her. Her arms were still encircling Brita. Merlin made to pull the infant away, but Iona wouldn't let go. Merlin stared at the shock and stress in her blank eyes. He pried her arms away with all his strength, slipping Brita into his own grasp. He placed a hand on Iona's forehead. "Ic pe puehaele pin licsare." Iona began to fall, and Merlin used one hand to guide her to the floor. He turned. "Nyra."

The Druid had come to her feet, her wound mended enough to stand. She reached down for her child, clasping Brita to her chest. Merlin stumbled over to the last of the wounded. Percival lay unmoving. Merlin's chest constricted as he pressed a hand to his neck. He breathed out in relief. The former knight lived, but... Merlin could see no visible wound. He placed a hand on his chest, seeking the injury. He gasped. A wound in the spine. This would take specific knowledge of healing magic.

Merlin stood, turning to Percival's wife and daughters who stared wide eyed and stunned from the bed. Merlin grasped Adala's shoulders. "You need to get them to Reynfrey. Do not touch Carwyn. No one is to disturb the prince, not even the physician. Do you understand."

Adala nodded slowly. Merlin pitied her. She'd lived her entire life in quiet Ealdor. To lose her home and then come here to battle and danger must be overwhelming, but he didn't have time to coddle her.

"Leave Percival where he is. Bring Reynfrey here for him."

"Yes...I will," Adala stammered.

Merlin moved to the sword he'd left abandoned on the ground. He lifted it up, staring in fascination at his own blood streaking it. He looked to Carwyn's frozen form. He glanced at Nyra. "There's hope," he promised. He ran out the door.

* * *

Gwen let Leon, and a contingent of knights they'd picked up, lead her deep into the vaults. They passed tombs of past kings, many hundreds of years old. Their goal was the entrance of a rarely used tunnel. If they followed it, they could pick their way through the underbelly of the castle and come outside.

That she was fleeing chafed at Gwen. How many times had she wanted Arthur safe, and he'd insisted on putting himself in danger for others? She felt empathy for him now. Leaving while her citadel was under attack felt wrong, but she had to rely on more rational minds. Leon was right to protect her, even though she hated it.

Leon slowed in his march and Gwen paced up to him. "Leon?"

The knight didn't respond. He passed his torch to her and drew his sword. "Get back," he ground out.

Gwen looked ahead. The tunnel entrance was blocked, and Gwen's heart sailed into her throat. The man with the blond hair and beard stood in their way.

"Going somewhere?" Rankin asked with a smile.

Another knight grasped Gwen's arm and pulled her behind them all. Leon stepped forward and brandished his sword.

Rankin laughed. "No sorcerers to help you out? How foolish." He didn't even take a step, simply raised his hand as his eyes flashed gold. The knights were thrown back as Gwen took refuge behind a sarcophagus.

Leon tumbled, but rolled to his feet. He held his sword in front of him. "You won't take our queen."

"I don't want to take her," Rankin spat out. "I want to kill her."

"I'm giving you a chance to leave."

Rankin grinned. "I almost _want_ to take the time to toy with you, but Emrys is too near."

Gwen's heart leaped. Merlin wasn't dead or enthralled! She brushed a hand over moist eyes.

Rankin raised his chin. "How long have you been a knight?"

Leon ground his jaw.

"I'm guessing by your greying hair, you've been quite loyal to the Pendragons. Pity you didn't die young, because now you'll pay for choosing _them_."

Gwen's heart pounded and she closed her eyes for a moment, knowing what she was about to do was senseless. She stood up and moved into sight. "Leave him alone. It's me you want."

"Gwen!" Leon shouted, taking a position in front of her. His eyes met hers, and she read the fear in them—not for himself, but for her.

"You won't let him die for you?" Rankin asked mockingly. "You Pendragons are all the same—loyal to a fault, unless your citizens have magic you don't approve of."

"Eira betrayed the king and Merlin," Gwen defended. "There was only one charge and punishment I could impose." _Hurry, Merlin!_

Rankin's nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed. "I watched her hang on _your_ orders. You didn't care why she had done what she did. You didn't give her a chance."

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Gwen declared.

"She did it for _me_!" Rankin shouted. "Morgana offered her pay, and we needed it to survive. But more, she wanted to see magic freed. To see me free."

"Arthur never wanted to hurt people who used magic."

"He had the same views as his father."

"You're wrong," Gwen protested. "He changed. He was fair and just."

"Lies you tell yourself to sleep at night," Rankin growled.

"Magic is legal now," Leon spoke up. "Our queen has protected people like you."

Rankin scoffed derisively. "People like me? Oh, magic is allowed as much as you want it to be, but step a toe beyond what _Emrys_ considers 'good,' and it's still to death." He smiled. "So I have one recourse." He lifted his hand.

Gwen made to rush around Leon, her sword raised high, but the knight grasped her arm and pulled her back, leaping ahead of her. Rankin's blast of lightning hit him square in the chest. He screamed, fell back, and shook on the ground. Gwen's heart felt like lead as she stared down at the man whose love had been unrequited. His eyes locked on hers.

"I...I..."

Tears coursed down Gwen's cheeks. "I know."

"Go," Leon murmured. The light faded from his eyes.

Gwen looked back at Rankin through blurry vision. She knew she wouldn't be able to get away. If this was her end, she would go down fighting. She hefted her sword, took one last breath, and sprinted towards the sorcerer.

* * *

Merlin had sent his sight out again, though it hurt. He'd stretched his magic beyond all limits. His power never lessened, but it existed in flesh and his body couldn't keep going forever, even if he was immortal. He'd need weeks of rest after this.

He had seen Gwen and Leon standing before Rankin. He pushed himself farther, increasing his speed. "Leoht!" he shouted as he dashed through the vaults. His light bounced off the grim walls as he ran. Finally he heard a shout—Gwen. He turned a corner to see her racing towards Rankin. He raised his hand, his eyes gleamed gold, and he pulled her backwards towards him. He caught her with one arm.

"Merlin!" Gwen exclaimed.

"Get back," Merlin commanded. "He's mine."

Rankin had stepped away from the tunnel, turning to face his true enemy. Merlin moved to intercept him until they stood facing each other across a short distance. Rankin nodded at the bloodied sword in his hand, realization in his gaze. "So you killed him?" he asked angrily. "I didn't really think you would."

Merlin tightened his hand around the sword's hilt. "I took care of the problem," he muttered. At least, he thought he had.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked.

"Shhh, Gwen," Merlin returned.

"He killed your son!" Rankin yelled.

"Merlin..."

"Trust me," Merlin hissed, looking back at her.

Gwen firmed her jaw and nodded.

Rankin laughed. "And still they believe you when all you have done led them to this," Rankin said, gesturing widely with one hand.

" _You_ caused this," Merlin said, looking back to the sorcerer. "You've twisted magic for your own evil purposes."

"Magic has never been more free than under me!" Rankin snarled.

"Your devotion to Morgana destroyed you," Merlin came back. "You became just like her."

"Powerful." Rankin's eyes gleamed.

"Filled with hate," Merlin clarified. "You've let it direct your path and betrayed magic."

Rankin snickered. "This is how you choose to pontificate, Emrys? Hate and love? How naive you must be to think there are only two sides—yours love and mine hate. I loved my sister. I love magic. That is what drives my 'hate', as you call it. What drives you? A misguided loyalty to a crown that uses you like a faithful dog."

"I pity you. All you've ever cared for is yourself. If I was used, I chose to be. Giving my life for justice and peace seems a good trade."

"You're deluded."

Merlin lifted his chin. "Believe that if you want. I know the truth."

"Enough. Let us end this."

Merlin nodded, holding out a hand crackling with magic. He drew all his power into it. Rankin grinned, his eyes aflame, raising his hands. Lightning and flame met, the vault alighting with the combination of power. Both sorcerers maintained their spells, seemingly equal in strength. Merlin shifted his gaze only slightly to the sword in his hand. He looked back at Rankin. He let his spell fail.

Merlin had but a second to send the sword shooting across at his enemy before Rankin's fire slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sending him skidding across the vault floor. He wrenched his head up. The sword had reached Rankin, but turned, heading towards Gwen. He let out a mighty roar and his eyes burned intensely yellow. The sword doubled back, then stalled, Rankin holding his hand in front to keep it at bay.

"I...am...Emrys," Merlin strained out. With a last push, the sword broke through Rankin's barrier. It slammed straight through his heart and the sorcerer shrieked. As he fell, Merlin groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Merlin!" Gwen called, her hand suddenly on his back.

He didn't look at her. He rose and stumbled to the figure lying on the ground with a sword pierced through him He laid a hand on his shoulder. "You gave me no choice."

Rankin coughed, blood appearing on his lips. "I...knew...you'd win."

"Then why?" Merlin moaned.

"J—justice."

"Revenge," Merlin sighed.

"They're...the same."

Merlin shook his head sadly. Choosing the way of Uther and Morgana was so easy. A memory came back to him then, Arthur sparing Odin's life, the king listening to him for once. _She is the darkness to your light; the hatred to your love._ Kilgharrah's words echoed in his mind.

"You've..." Rankin coughed again, more blood spilling over his lips, "enslaved magic forever."

"I've set it free," Merlin whispered. Despite what Rankin had said, it _was_ as simple as hate versus love. Rankin shuddered once more, and his eyes lost their fire. Merlin ran a hand over them to close them. His chin quivered. The last of Morgana was finally gone.

A sob drew his attention across the room to Gwen sitting with Leon's head in her lap. _No._ He stood, forcing his feet to carry him further. He knelt next to Gwen and stared into Leon's blank eyes. He may have won, but he'd also lost.

"He loved me," Gwen managed through her weeping.

Merlin nodded and pulled her into his side. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him. He let her hold him for a moment, then stood and pulled her with him. "I need to get back to Carwyn."

"Is he alive?"

Merlin firmed his jaw. "I don't know." In fact, he assumed the prince was dead, at the most only hanging on by a thread.

* * *

Merlin guided Gwen along as fast as he could. She was spent, and he could barely walk. It took all his effort and magic to keep moving. He reached Iona's room. Reynfrey was present, leaning over Percival whose wife knelt next to him. Iona, Nyra, and Brita were no where to be seen.

"Carwyn!" Gwen cried, running to her son's side.

"Don't touch him!" Merlin shouted.

Gwen pulled back her hand, but sank to her knees.

Reynfrey glanced at them.

"How's Percival?" Merlin asked.

"I'm still working on him." Reynfrey nodded to Carwyn. "What did you do to him?"

"Something I've never done before." Their eyes met and Reynfrey correctly read his uncertainty, raising his eyebrows before he turned back to his patient.

Merlin joined Gwen next to Carwyn, laying an encouraging hand briefly on her shoulder. He considered the prince for a moment, afraid he had put too much faith in himself. So he was immortal. Did that give him the right to arrogantly assume time was in his hands?

Gwen swallowed hard. "He's not breathing."

Merlin shook his head.

"Did you...is he..."

"I'm not certain."

"Merlin, I can't...I can't..."

Merlin reached out to grab her hand and look her in the eye. "Don't give up yet." He turned to Carwyn, closing his eyes. _Please let this work._

Merlin braced his hands on the prince. He assumed he'd have only seconds to bring Carwyn back. "Edstadele andweardnes." He fell onto the prince, laying his arms and forehead to the boy's chest. He sought within himself for the magic he'd stolen. It had been his once, but wasn't hard to find now; it had altered and become distinctly different. He forced it into Carwyn's body, then willed it to link with the boy's blood flowing so sluggishly. Merlin pushed at the flow and was rewarded as the blood picked up speed moving faster and faster. He heard a breath and a cough. He broke down, sitting up and weeping.

"Carwyn!" Gwen cupped her son's cheeks in her hands, leaning over him and kissing his forehead.

Carwyn's eyelids fluttered. He opened his eyes. "M-mother?"

Gwen nodded, unable to speak through tears.

Carwyn's voice was all Merlin needed to hear. He slumped to the ground, succumbing to darkness.


	44. Quality

Iona tenderly stroked Merlin's hair. She'd been at his side since she'd awoken, her burns healed. She'd immediately feared for Brita, but Reynfrey had assured her the baby was safe. Even more, the battle was over and Rankin dead.

"Because of you," Iona whispered, leaning down to gently press her lips to Merlin's.

Merlin hadn't revived since he'd collapsed in her chambers. Reynfrey suspected some kind of healing trance. He said although Merlin looked still, his magic was at work under the surface.

Iona dipped a cloth into a bowl of water. She wrung it out, then dabbed at Merlin's face. Even asleep he looked exhausted and worn. She had taken it upon herself to clean off the grime and sweat clinging to him. As she worked, she caught quiet words coming from behind her in the great hall turned medical ward.

"He hasn't responded," the queen spoke in worry.

"He'll need time," Reynfrey advised.

"I think it may have been too much for him. I should have waited to say anything."

"He would have needed to know some time."

"I'm not certain what he remembers."

"I'm afraid that is something I can't cure."

"No." The queen sighed.

"I'm sorry I have to take you from him, but Sir Leon..."

"Yes. I'll come."

Iona glanced behind to see Gwen following Reynfrey out of the grand hall. Sir Leon's body had been reverently retrieved from the vaults, and she suspected was now being prepared for travel. People rumored he'd be worthy of the noblest of funerals—his bier set upon the Lake of Avalon. Like her sister. Iona stared at Merlin again. Freya hadn't been worth it, not by traditional standards, but this man had a purer heart than most.

Iona caressed Merlin's brow. "I love you."

She looked over her shoulder. The prince lay on a cot not far away, his back to her. She knew how he felt right now, and if Merlin were cognizant, he would have been at his side. She stood and quietly strode over to him.

* * *

Carwyn stared at a patch of patterned light streaming from a stained glass window. Physically he'd been undamaged during the battle, but mentally he could hardly function. Camelot had come under assault by an army lead by _him_. _My people—I hurt them. I...killed them._

Carwyn tucked his arms into his chest. He'd been so arrogant! Merlin had warned him to leave instead of take on Rankin. He hadn't thought the sorcerer stood a chance against them both. Hadn't they forced him from Iona's mind? Hadn't he been almost killed seven years ago?

Rankin had devised a plan. Of course he had. And Carwyn had played right into it. If he had fled, perhaps he could have reached Camelot in time to warn his people. Instead, he became the enemy.

"My lord?"

Carwyn didn't stir. He didn't want to be disturbed, but he couldn't manage to say anything. Shoes stepped within his vision, and a woman lowered herself to the floor in front of him. He didn't look directly at her, but he knew it was Iona.

"I'm sorry."

Carwyn blinked, but still refused to look at her. _Leave me alone._

"I know how you're feeling... What it's like to be used this way... I know it doesn't help much, but you didn't do this. _He_ did. And he's dead. He won't make anyone his tool again." Her voice broke.

Carwyn shifted his gaze to her. He'd blamed her, threatened her, would have executed her. Now he knew what she had faced—the horror of realizing you had done things you couldn't even recall except as a bad dream haunting you.

"You will be forgiven. They'll perhaps be suspicious for a time, but in the end, they'll take you back." Iona glanced down at the floor. "Like you did me."

Carwyn clenched his jaw, a lump growing in his throat. She had tried to poison Nyra. Him? He had... he had... "I hurt you and Nyra and Percival... Aithusa... Blaise... I almost killed my daughter!" He trembled, his breath coming in painful waves.

Iona rose to her knees, laying a hand on his shoulder. "My lord, it wasn't you. And she is safe." Tears arose, trailing down his cheek. "It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry," Carwyn choked out. "I was so wrong how I treated you."

"It doesn't matter now," Iona spoke softly. "I hold no grudges. Those who love you will not hold anything against you either."

Carwyn drew in a breath. He supposed that was likely true, but he was determined not to forget where pride could lead him. He would not be so foolish again!

Iona laid a cloth to his face, wiping at his tears. "Merlin cares deeply for you. He would not want you to torment yourself with guilt you don't deserve."

Carwyn looked back at the light from the window, the Pendragon crest reflected on the floor.

"Your people need you. They need to see your strength and know they cannot be defeated as you were not."

Carwyn pondered her words. What wisdom she had. And she had spent most of her life on the streets. No wonder Merlin had made her his.

"Get up," came a new voice, one Carwyn knew well. He welcomed the person, but not the command.

He rolled over. "Nyra... I'm sorry. I didn't want to..."

His wife interrupted, grabbing his arm with her iron grip and pulling him up. She held his shoulders with both her hands, a look of fury on her face as she met his gaze. "Don't apologize to me. You think I believe _you_ were the one who wounded me? Who tried to hurt Brita? You think I would ever believe you capable of that? You owe me nothing."

Carwyn swallowed hard. "But..."

Nyra's hands moved to his cheeks. "I promised to love you no matter what happened and you cannot shake that love. You're stuck with it."

Carwyn's chin quivered and he wondered for the millionth time how he had ever deserved her.

"Now, come and see." She took his hand and pulled him towards the double doors.

Iona followed, curious what had Nyra so insistent.

Carwyn found himself directed to stairs and the battlements. It was a bright day, a bit chilly but fresh and new. Nyra led him to the parapet and pointed. "There."

Carwyn creased his brow. Legions of people were coming through the woods and over the hills, streaming into the lower town and Citadel. "Who?"

Nyra beamed. "My people. Aalef has called them. They come to heal their kingdom."

"Druids," Carwyn whispered, people he honored and loved, but people who had skirted the Citadel ever since the Purge. Aalef's band had been the only ones comfortable enough to come near since one of their own had linked herself with the royal family. "Why?"

"He has convinced them they are needed, and it's time they take their rightful place in Camelot." Nyra stared up at him. "They come for you and Emrys." She slipped her arms around his waist.

Carwyn wrapped his arms around her slight form, tears once again gracing his eyes.

Iona marveled. _Merlin, if only you could see this._

* * *

Gwen strode purposefully into a chamber reserved for the dead. Those preparing bodies for burial bowed their heads as she passed. She stopped next to a table where a man lay as if asleep, his curly hair brushed back from his brow, his eyelids unmoving.

"Leon," Gwen whispered. She heard movement and glanced back to see Reynfrey shooing people from the room. He nodded to her and closed the door. She looked back at the body. "They give me a last moment with you."

Gwen hesitated to touch the knight, fearing the stiffness of death, but she owed him this. She lay a hand on his arm. She leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. When she rose, tears fell. "I'm sorry I was too scared, too stubborn... I did love you. I should have told you."

Gwen fingered some of Leon's hair that draped over a pillow. Even in death they gave him the dignity he deserved. "Be at peace, loyal friend."

Gwen let go the man who had loved, but never demanded hers in return. She turned away, rubbing at her cheeks, replacing the mask of duty she so often wore. She opened the door. Reynfrey nodded to those in his service who reentered the room.

"You may take him now," Gwen said. "We will leave at dawn."

"Yes, my queen." Reynfrey set a kind hand on her arm and she smiled gratefully at him.

"Your majesty!" One of the council members was hurrying down the hall.

"What is it?" Gwen's heart froze, afraid to hear more bad news.

"Hundreds have come. They want to see you."

Gwen paced next to the man, headed towards the courtyard. "Who?"

"Druids."

 _Druids?_ Before Gwen could even set a toe in the courtyard she was met inside the door by Aalef.

"Our queen," Aalef said, bowing his head. "We greet you."

"Aalef," Gwen replied, peering behind him at the courtyard filling with people. "You bring your band?"

Aalef grinned. "I bring every Druid."

Gwen cocked her head.

"Every one that can travel and hasn't occupied themselves elsewhere."

"I don't understand."

"We held a meeting not two nights ago. Rewi spoke to us. She is revered by many."

Gwen recognized the name of the seer even though they had never met.

"She told us the time for magic had come. _All_ magic. That we must relinquish our fear and self-preservation as Emrys has for years. That we must serve the kingdom and its servants—the queen, the prince, and his heirs."

Gwen stared in disbelief.

"It was a sign when Nyra united with the prince. Too long have we separated ourselves. We let King Uther drive us away. We did not support King Arthur as we should have. This is our time as well as yours. If you will have us, we wish to heal and redeem our kingdom and people together."

Gwen's throat ached with emotion. "Yes. I accept. You are most welcome."

Aalef smiled and took the hand she offered, kingdom and magic come together fully at last.

* * *

Voices echoed in Merlin's mind, bouncing back and forth as he grew into consciousness. They were from the past, the present, maybe even the future. He couldn't quite tell. Everything seemed to meld together, and then he was taking a deep breath and falling into the rude awakening of a coughing fit.

A hand slipped under his back and he let it guide him to a sitting position. Cold metal touched his lips and he drank the offered wine. He blinked a couple times before the world widened from his narrow tunnel vision. Someone sat next to him on the bed in his chambers.

"Iona." He blinked again and coughed again, his voice scratchy from disuse.

"Reynfrey will be pleased to see you awake at last." She smiled.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. Anytime someone said something like that it meant he'd been unconscious far longer than he liked. "How long has it been?"

"Two weeks."

"Two?" He had assumed he would need rest, but not that he'd be asleep for weeks!

"A little more, to be honest. Reynfrey thinks you went into a healing trance."

Merlin massaged his temple. Perhaps. He wasn't sure. He just remembered... What? Memory flooded him. He grabbed Iona's arm. "You were hurt. And Percival, Nyra. What about Carwyn?"

Iona took the goblet out of his hand, setting it on a side table, then linked one of his hands with her own. "I'm fine."

"Tell me what's happened."

"So much, but wait a moment." She let go his hand and walked to the door, opening it to peek outside. She spoke lowly to someone, then shut it and turned back to him. "The queen wanted to know the moment you awoke."

"Gwen. How is she?" Merlin made to get up, but Iona dashed over to him, pushing his shoulders back against the headboard.

"Be still. Reynfrey says you'll need to take it slowly at first."

Merlin stared at her. "I think you don't want to tell me something."

"We're alright, Merlin. It's just...healing can take time. Are you hungry?"

Merlin nodded. Iona walked back to the door and disappeared for a moment. Merlin glanced around his room. By the light, it must be mid-afternoon. He peered down at himself. He was in a nightshirt. He felt sudden panic and slid off the bed, but wobbled and fell to his hands and knees.

"Merlin!" Iona rushed to his side. She gave him her hand and helped him stand. He leaned into her. "You aren't supposed to be up yet."

"My clothes. Where are they?"

"They've been washed and dried already."

Merlin's eyes were wild. "There was something in them."

"We have it."

Merlin calmed. "You have..."

"A purple gemstone. Carwyn says...my sister is in it. Or her soul. He told us what happened to you." Iona's voice was sad. "It's in the vaults. The queen thought it best to protect it until you could tell us more about it."

Merlin noted the concern in her voice. "Freya's not hurt. I know what to do to help her."

"Merlin," Gwen reprimanded as she entered the room with a tray of food. "I assume Iona told you to stay put and you ignored her."

Merlin smiled at her. "Maybe."

Gwen raised the tray. "I met a servant from the kitchens on the way, but I won't give you this until you're back in bed."

Merlin let Iona aid him to the bed, and he slipped his legs back under the sheets as he sat. Iona pulled away as Gwen handed the tray to Merlin, then scooted a chair over to the bed.

"I'll get Carwyn," Iona said quietly, leaving the room.

Gwen watched her go. "She's grown closer to Carwyn these two weeks. I think they share an experience we can't."

"Gwen, what's happened?"

Gwen looked to Merlin, smiling with a mix of joy and sorrow. She leaned over to embrace him. "First, thank you. We're safe because of you."

Merlin let her hold him, but shook his head. "Not just me. The warriors and knights."

Gwen settled into the chair. "I think you stayed too much in the background most of your life. It's okay to accept the praise."

Merlin figured it was, but he never felt right basking in it. "I want to know how everyone is."

Gwen took a breath. "Nyra is well. Already training warriors again. Brita grows. Percival will heal slowly, though..."

Merlin titled his head. "Though..."

"His spine was broken. Reynfrey did his best to mend it. He will always have a bit of a limp."

Merlin had picked up a grape, but paused, taking the news in.

"Blaise is healthy. He will bear a few scars all his life, but he's bonded with the white dragon."

Merlin chewed at the grape, remembering that he'd seen his scribe with the dragon on the way into the citadel. "What had happened to him?"

"Carwyn tried to get her to fight against us. She wouldn't."

That explained the burns he'd seen on her.

"Blaise tried to protect her." Gwen smiled softly.

Merlin shook his head. Leave it to Blaise with his little skill to sacrifice himself willingly.

"We lost several knights and warriors. Leon was set on the Lake." Gwen's eyes had lowered.

Merlin stopped chewing and swallowed hard. Another friend taken from him.

"I would have waited for you if I could."

"It's okay." He'd have to grieve the noble knight in his own way. When Gwen didn't continue, Merlin ate silently for a few moments, then asked, "Carwyn?"

Gwen looked up. "He throws himself into rebuilding the town and the people. He deals with the pain he caused, even if it wasn't his fault."

Merlin could imagine the prince's feelings.

"Something else has happened," Gwen reported, her countenance brightening. "The Druids are here."

Merlin inquired around a piece of bread. "Aalef?"

"Not just him. All of them that could come. Merlin, _all_ the Druids in Camelot."

Merlin eyed her intently. "They're _here_?"

"They held a meeting, listened to Rewi and Aalef and decided the time had come to join Camelot as one. They've been invaluable. Carwyn ordered the unenthralled released from the dungeons to heal. The Druids have taken on that cause. Our people come back to us by the day."

Merlin marveled. Druids in the Citadel. He smiled at the irony. Oh wouldn't Uther have loved to see this! If he'd thought Arthur had destroyed his legacy... Well, they had done far worse.

"Iona hasn't left your side," Gwen said quietly. "She's devoted herself to you." Pain colored Gwen's eyes. "Don't waste this chance. Take her into your heart. Marry her."

Merlin swallowed, heat rising in his cheeks. "I hadn't thought that far ahead yet." Well, not really. Perhaps in passing.

"Don't wait too long. We're not getting younger."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. No, but he wasn't heading towards death either.

The door opened again, this time admitting the prince with Iona behind him.

"Carwyn!" Merlin called out.

The prince approached sheepishly. "Merlin."

"Don't make me stand up," Merlin teased.

Carwyn came close to him. Merlin grasped his arms and pulled him into an embrace. "I thought I'd lose you," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I did what I had to."

Carwyn tightened his hold on the warlock. "You're sorry? I was a fool. I tried to fight Rankin." He pulled back, his face awash with guilt. "I should have left as you told me, then all this might not have happened."

Merlin stared at him sternly. "Don't spend another minute letting Rankin destroy your life."

Carwyn glanced at Iona who smiled encouragingly. "I'm trying." He looked to Gwen, then back at Merlin. "About my life... We're not sure what occurred in Iona's chambers. Nyra said you tried to kill yourself, but she doesn't think that was exactly what you did."

Merlin glanced between the three expectant faces. Iona had moved back over to the bed, sitting on its edge. What could he tell them? How did he tell them? "I thought it was the right thing to do at the time."

Gwen sat up straighter. "Thrusting a sword through your stomach?"

Merlin ran a hand through his hair. "It sounds stupid when you say it like that."

Iona reached out to take his hand again. "Whatever it was, we trust you."

Merlin squeezed her hand. He spoke to the tray in his lap. "I've thought for some time something was different about me. I've aged, but I've not felt old. I didn't think too much about it until Nyra was poisoned, and I took the poison in but didn't die." He looked up. "When I was in the Crystal Cave before Camlann and saw my father, he said I'd always been and always would be."

Iona gasped. "You can't die?" Gwen and Carwyn shared a glance.

"I suspected that," Merlin confessed. "So much of my life makes sense then. Why I survived things that would have killed others." He thought of Nimueh's attack on the Isle of the Blessed, suffering the effects of the Dorocha, the numerous times Morgana had attacked him but never killed him. He looked at Carwyn. "Rankin made you a vessel for the enthrallment of his army. I didn't know how to release the spell without taking your life." Merlin hesitated. Did he speak of the images he'd seen? He wasn't certain they'd been real people. He thought it more likely they were a vision or a manifestation of his own thoughts.

"Why did you try to take yours?" Gwen asked.

Merlin flushed. "I thought I couldn't die, but my magic had caused Carwyn to live. When I was in danger seven years ago, that bond came alive. I assumed if I were hurt, it might respond once more. I wasn't sure what would happen. His magic came back to me, at least enough to stop the vessel spell."

Carwyn blinked, trying to comprehend what Merlin was saying. "So the sword didn't kill you, but my life was removed."

Merlin nodded. "I believe so. Carwyn, it was the only option I could think of."

"I don't blame you, Merlin. I could never do that, but...why am I alive now? What did you do?"

Merlin ran a hand over his face. This was a bit more surprising even for him. "For as long as I can remember, I've been able to slow time. I couldn't do it for long, but enough to give me an advantage sometimes. I thought since time doesn't have a complete hold on me, I could stop it for you, at least until I killed Rankin. It was a risk, but it worked."

Merlin paused, uncomfortable. The faces of those staring at him were dumbstruck with awe. "I'm...not sure...how much I can really do," he stammered. "I'm not a god. I know that."

"You returned my magic?" Carwyn whispered.

Merlin nodded. "That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

Carwyn walked to the table in the room, supporting himself with a hand braced on it.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Gwen spoke softly. Merlin looked to her and understanding passed between them.

"Sorry?" Carwyn asked as he turned. "It sounds to me like your power is far greater than anyone knows."

"You can't understand," Gwen said, keeping her eyes on Merlin. "To watch the world pass by and you continue on. To watch friends leave you and you can never join them." She broke off, seeing tears appear in Merlin's eyes.

Iona moved closer to him, laying a head on his shoulder. "We may not live forever, but we'll walk with you as long as we can."

Merlin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned back against the headboard. He pushed thoughts of immortality away, too weary to let the weight of eternity burden him.

Gwen had stood and moved to the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She's right. You know I'm here for you."

Carwyn came close. "Thank you, Merlin. For saving my people no matter what it took."

Merlin smiled and closed his eyes against his tears.

* * *

A day later, Merlin found he could walk again. Iona accompanied him around the castle. They were stopped along the way by people grateful to him for their salvation. Word of his part in the events had spread, though not the fact he was immortal. That tidbit stayed with the only three people who knew it.

Merlin bobbed his head and accepted the thanks, but he wished they would stop. Gwen had been right. He'd gotten too good at doing things without expecting anything in return. Sometimes he thought in his heart he'd always be a servant no matter how much authority he seemed to wield. And perhaps he was. When Arthur came back, he'd take his place at his king's side, the faithful servant he'd always been.

Merlin was taken aback by the state of the citadel, not the destruction, which turned out to be minimal, but the Druids all over it. Gwen had opened every room to them and they were busy at all kinds of tasks, but mostly he saw them speaking spells and aiding the minds of the now unenthralled. Greetings of Emrys echoed in his mind, and the flow of magic all around him was intoxicating. He had to rest several times to adjust to its overwhelming presence.

When Iona led him into the fresh air of the courtyard, Merlin observed noble children, village children, and Druid children all playing a game of tag together and felt his heart might burst. _This_ was the quality of Camelot's magic—pain and destruction overcome by love and compassion. Arthur had laid the foundation for a united kingdom; they had built upon it. _We did it, Arthur. Your people are finally one._ Merlin swallowed a knot in his throat. His own dream of magic accepted and flourishing had come to pass at last.

Merlin cleared his throat. "I want to go to the vaults." He looked down at Iona.

"Freya," she intuited.

Merlin nodded. "I need to take her home."


	45. Time

The purple gemstone glittered in Merlin's hands, reflecting the flames flickering behind it. If he concentrated, he could sense Freya inside, though she had gone silent. He thought perhaps she didn't want to interrupt his time with the woman sitting on the other side of the fire.

Merlin glanced up. Iona had tied her hair back in one long braid for travel, yet wispy tendrils had escaped over the day, framing her slender face. He'd managed to slip away from Camelot. He hadn't wanted Gwen or Carwyn to feel obligated to accompany him. Not that he didn't covet their presence, but it was their place to see to Camelot. This was his task—and Iona's. Both of them had to set Freya to rest.

Iona caught his gaze. "Are you still hungry?"

Merlin shook his head, pocketing the gemstone. She'd cooked a simple, but fulfilling meal. She stood and moved over to him, picking up his empty bowl, but before she could walk away, he grasped her wrist. "Sit. The washing can wait."

Iona blinked uncertainly, but sat down in front of him. She fingered the edge of her cloak.

"You've been quiet," Merlin commented.

Iona smiled lightly. "So much has happened. I just wanted to think."

Merlin understood. He'd spent most of his days trying to make sense of all the crises in his life.

Iona continued to contemplate her cloak. "Things were always so simple before I came to Camelot, even if they were difficult."

Merlin smiled to himself. He could have said the same thing about himself. Everything changed when he stepped foot into Camelot for the first time. He sobered, thinking of the pain and suffering he'd endured. Immortal. What more was to come for him? And what of Iona?

"You don't need to stay," Merlin spoke quietly. He could let her go. She didn't need to be beholden to a man with a life like his.

Iona looked up. "I have no reason to leave and every reason to stay."

"I feel I've forced you into a trial that was never yours."

Iona pointed to his coat pocket. "I think it had to happen. Though..." Her expression saddened.

"What is it?"

Iona smiled kindly at him. "I think I'm a poor substitute."

"Why would you think that?" Merlin asked, taken aback.

"The gem. Your soul and Freya's were meant to be one." She turned away, staring into the forest. "It's alright. I don't mind."

Merlin shifted to his knees, reaching out to take her hands. "You aren't a substitute for her. I escaped the gem when I gave her up...because I thought about you."

"Me," Iona spoke in a hushed voice. "But you, you're so praised and accomplished. I don't have anything to offer someone like you."

"Do you love me?" Merlin locked his eyes with hers.

Iona's voice was hardly audible. "How can I not?"

"Your love is all you need give."

Iona drew her cloak tighter as a chilly breeze drifted through the trees.

"Come," Merlin encouraged. He gently pulled at her arm as he leaned back against a tree. He situated her so she rested between his knees with her head propped against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. "I love _you_ ," he whispered into her ear.

Iona relaxed into his embrace. Merlin kissed the top of her head, then leaned back, staring at the twinkling stars above the forest canopy. So many years past he had made this same journey with a broken heart, Freya dying every step of the way. The last time he had come this way had been to set his mother on the waters of Avalon. For the first time, he realized he approached the Lake without pain as his companion.

Merlin tightened his hold on Iona. When he'd left the Lake after setting Arthur upon it, he had thought himself as dead as his king—stripped of hope and will. But he had received them back a hundred fold. Carwyn had been born. He had become fully Emrys. Magic had been freed. And now, life offered him a woman's love one more time.

He would have been a fool not to take a chance.

* * *

Merlin slowed his horse when the Lake appeared before them. He'd been at various parts of its shores, but this was where he had said farewell to Freya. He strode to the edge, then dismounted, stepping around his horse to Iona's. He helped her down, and she leaned into him as he stared at the Lake.

"It's beautiful here," she breathed.

"Freya told me your home was near a lake surrounded by mountains."

"It was." Iona sighed. It had been ideal while it lasted.

"I thought this the best place for her. I didn't know at the time it would enchant her."

"Maybe it was her curse that caused it?"

"Maybe. Whatever it was, I'm grateful for it."

"I wish I could hear her like you can."

Merlin put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

They stood still and silent for a time, the beauty and sacredness of the place making it feel almost sacrilegious to disturb it. Finally, Iona whispered.

"Do you know how to release her?"

"I think so." Merlin squeezed her shoulder, then let go. He removed his cloak, handing it to her, and sat down to take off his boots. Finally, he hitched up his pants and moved to the edge of the shore, glancing back at Iona who smiled encouragingly.

Merlin dipped a foot into the water and sucked in a breath. It was so cold. He grit his teeth and dunked his other foot. He pulled the gem from his pocket. "Freya?" The light within pulsed, but she did not speak. He moved deeper into the water, forcing himself to keep going despite its bite. When he was knee deep, he leaned down and submerged the gem. "You're home."

The gem sparked, shimmering through the ripples at his knees. The light grew brighter, seeping into the lake as the gem dimmed. When it was dark, Merlin pulled it out and tucked into his pocket. Best it be taken back to Camelot and the vaults for safekeeping. He was about to turn when he heard a voice.

"Merlin."

He looked back and his breath stalled. Freya stood before him, bathed in light, clothed in a pure white dress melting into the waters, a haloed diadem circling her flowing dark hair. He looked over his shoulder at Iona. She hadn't reacted. He turned back. "Can she see you?"

Freya's eyes peered behind him. "No."

"She would like to."

Freya smiled tenderly. "I know, but she does not have the gift to see like you. Tell her I miss her."

"I will."

"I'm so proud of you, Merlin. You've had such courage in a life tormented by suffering."

Merlin's mouth formed a grim line. "You describe yourself."

"Perhaps." She paused a moment, then smiled softly. "All is changed. Camelot is what she was meant to be—a haven for all. And some day, she will guide Albion to unity."

Merlin's heartbeat quickened. "When?"

"I do not know, but I feel it will not be soon."

Merlin nodded sadly.

"Do not despair. You will not walk this world alone. Already those who love you commit themselves to you." Her eyes flickered behind him again. "You can live, Merlin. Your immortality does not have to be a curse. Embrace time and make it yours."

Merlin's gaze moved to the vast lake behind her. Time felt like its waters, stretching on and on with no end in sight.

"I cannot speak to you much longer. I feel the waters calling me, but I want you to know why you do this. Here." She held out her hand.

Merlin reached out tentatively and touched her. His hand tingled. She felt like a force of magic rather than solid form. She led him across the Lake and he gaped to see they didn't sink the farther they walked. It seemed to Merlin they journeyed for but a few seconds before the isle in the Lake appeared before them. Freya raised her other hand and a portion of the isle's shore faded away to reveal a watery tunnel. Merlin let her pull him on, deep below the isle's surface. She halted before an entrance to a cavern that glowed with golden light.

"There. Go in."

Merlin released her hand and passed inside. The water at his knees bobbed gently, bouncing back and forth off the walls of a strange cave. Magic thrummed at the center, emanating from the source of the light. He moved closer, delighting in the warm sensations that flowed up his body. This light was alive. He was sure of it.

He reached the center and shaded his eyes momentarily at the brightness. His eyesight adjusted and he gasped. His heart leaped. "Arthur." The light encased his king who appeared as if asleep, but he bore not the pallor of death. He looked healthy and strong. Merlin's gaze traveled to his side. There was no wound.

Merlin found he couldn't move. His eyes welled with tears that leaked down his cheeks. "Is this a dream?" he strained out.

"No," came Freya's voice from the doorway. "This _is_ your king. Here, he awaits his time."

"Can...can I touch him?"

"You may."

Merlin forced his weak legs to move closer. He reached out and lay a hand on Arthur's head. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his other hand. "I miss you, old friend."

"He will return to you, Merlin," Freya assured. "The bond your formed in life is stronger than death. Live for him. Prepare for him. He will need your knowledge and guidance to face a world he doesn't know."

Merlin let his hand trace from Arthur's hair down his cheek to his neck. There was no pulse and yet, he was not dead. Merlin knew death. This was something else entirely.

"We must go."

Merlin looked to Freya, then back to Arthur. Everything within him shouted to stay, but already he felt the warm magic growing hotter. Soon it would be painful. He felt that he had trespassed in a place not meant for him.

"I'll look for you," Merlin promised as he pulled away. "I'll wait. You have my word." Merlin moved back to Freya, eyes on Arthur as she took his hand once more.

In the blink of an eye, Merlin found himself back on the shore, standing next to Iona.

"Merlin? Are you alright?"

Merlin blinked. Freya was gone. He glanced down. His legs were wet, so he _had_ been in the Lake. "I..."

"You were in the waters and then you were...gone."

A hard knot choked Merlin's throat. "I saw Arthur," he spoke hoarsely. "He waits for his time, and I wait for him."

Iona slipped her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. "I'll wait with you."

Merlin thought of Arthur in the golden waters. Yes. He _could_ do it. He could persevere. He'd wait as long as he needed to, because he knew for certain Arthur would come back to him. And yet, he had a life to live in the meantime.

Merlin tightened his grip on Iona's hand and looked into her eyes. "Marry me."

Iona's eyes moistened. "I will."

* * *

"Shhhh. He's coming!"

"Rose! Shut up!"

"Robyn!"

"Sorry, but be quiet!"

"All of you! It's a wonder we ever get anything done around here."

"Yes, mother Brita."

"Swigan!" The room went silent.

"Merlin." The old warlock grinned from his hiding place. His wife's voice continued to chastise. "Let them talk."

"When he comes." Merlin chuckled.

The door to the chambers opened. Merlin squished as close to the wardrobe's side as he could. "Acwide," he whispered, his eyes gleaming gold.

The room exploded in ribbons of color as people emerged all at once. "Happy birthday, father!" joyous voices rang out. Merlin slipped round the wardrobe, catching the grandchildren crawling out from under the bed and table, behind the curtains, and the youngest, Fray, stepping out of a trunk.

Carwyn, whose hand had gone to his sword hilt, relaxed and laughed as he was smothered. Rose, supposedly on her way to becoming a lady, jumped into his arms anyway. Carwyn caught her, laying a kiss on the top of her head. Robyn shook his hand, and Leon, the most serious of them all, nodded to him. Brita, always proper, waited until her brothers and sister had finished, then hugged her father and received a kiss on the cheek.

"Did your mother put you up to this?" Carwyn asked, reaching back to grasp Nyra's hand and pulling her into his side.

"It was mainly Merlin's idea," Fray revealed.

Carwyn smiled across at the warlock. "Of course."

Merlin's eyes twinkled. Iona linked her arm with his. He looked down at the woman whose age reflected his, at least physically. Time had marched on, but peace had reigned for twenty more years.

"We have gifts!" Rose cried out.

"Me, me!" Fray insisted, swiping his off the table.

"In order by age," Brita commanded. "Go ahead, Fray."

Carwyn let Nyra direct him to a chair and one by one his children presented their gifts, all handmade. Fray, ten, had managed to carve a tiny dragon, with a little help from magic. Rose had worked so diligently on an embroidered handkerchief. Robyn presented a set of potions he'd perfected; he'd shadowed Reynfrey from the time he could speak. Leon held out a knife, one he'd designed himself and worked in a forge. Brita came last, reverently proffering a handwritten book of her poems.

Carwyn was overwhelmed. He brushed a hand over his eyes. "Thank you."

Brita moved to his side and touched his arm. "How is grandmother?"

The children quieted. Merlin had come up with this idea a month ago when they had all been so despondent over Gwen's decline in health. They needed something to occupy themselves and take their mind off their soon to be loss.

"She loves you all. She says so every day," Carwyn reported. He glanced up at Merlin and the warlock read the truth in his eyes: the time was near.

* * *

An insistent knock sounded at Merlin's door. He groaned. His bones may not have ached and creaked, but he still grew tired. The room was pitch black. His eyes flashed in the dark and a candle lit on the table. He crawled out of bed and shuffled to the door, opening it. "Reynfrey?"

"She won't live much longer. She wants you."

Merlin tried to fight the pounding of his heart. He'd known this would happen. It would happen many more times, watching people he loved leave him, but this was the first since his immortality became certain. He nodded and closed the door, moving to the dressing screen.

"Merlin?" Iona called. Her voice had grown strained with age, but he still loved its sound.

"Gwen."

He heard her rustle out of bed. She joined him behind the screen, helping him dress as she had for years. He returned the favor, and when they were clothed, he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. They left the room together, he slowing his pace for her to keep up. When they reached the queen's room, Iona let him enter first.

Merlin beheld Gwen in bed, her face drawn, her eyes slits. Carwyn sat beside her in the bed, his hand in hers. Nyra was on his other side. The prince's cheeks were wet.

Merlin moved to the bed, looking down at the woman who had first befriended him in the stocks so long ago. How relentless was the march of time! "Gwen."

The queen's eyelids widened a bit more. "Merlin," she moaned. She lifted a wrinkled, shaky hand, and he took it.

Merlin briefly closed his eyes.

"I need something."

Merlin leaned over to her. "Anything."

"Tell...tell Arthur...I kept loving him. Always."

A tear dripped down his cheek. He squeezed her hand. "I promise."

"I'll miss you."

Merlin kissed her cheek. "You'll live in my heart. I swear it."

A small smile formed along Gwen's mouth. "Carwyn?"

"Mother."

"Love well. Be kind. Listen. Have patience with your people."

"Yes, mother."

"They love you now, and they will love you more as king."

Carwyn didn't answer, too choked with emotion to speak.

Gwen drew both her hands to her chest, still holding to her son and Merlin. She took a couple more shuddering breaths, then her grips loosened. Merlin pulled away to stroke her hair. Carwyn wept in the arms of his wife.

* * *

The vigil for Gwen felt so familiar to Merlin, but this time he didn't wait in the antechamber like he had when Uther died. He stayed at Carwyn's side all night, holding the boy when he wept and the night grew long. Morning came, streaming weakly through the windows. _A new day_ , Merlin thought as he stared at Carwyn kneeling before Gwen's body. _A new era._

A week after Gwen was set upon the Lake of Avalon, the whole of Camelot seemed to have gathered to attend the ascending of their king. Nobles and servants gathered in the great hall, Druids among them. People packed the courtyard. Merlin glanced at Iona standing next to the grandchildren as he nervously rubbed his palms on his robe. Even this old, he found himself uncomfortable when on display in front of people.

The room quieted as knights and warriors appeared in their red capes, lining the middle of the room to make way for the prince. The double doors opened. Carwyn entered. He marched with his head held high, and his people beamed at him. Merlin waited, his heart aflutter. Carwyn climbed the stairs and fixed his brown eyes on Merlin. The warlock smiled. Even when about to be king, Carwyn's curly hair was unruly as always.

Merlin nodded once and Carwyn knelt in front of him. A servant boy stepped up to him with a pillow, and Merlin retrieved its precious cargo, running his long fingers along the gilt edges of an exquisite golden crown. He held it high, then stared at the bowed head of the prince. His voice rang out.

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?"

"I solemnly swear so to do."

"Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?"

"I will."

"Will you respect all persons, tempering power with compassion?"

"I will."

"Then by the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you Carwyn, King of Camelot!"

Carwyn rose, gripping wrists with Merlin. Merlin took his shoulder and turned him around, shouting loudly. "Long live the king!"

The shout was taken up, voices echoing his cry. Bells pealed outside and the cheering of thousands joined in.

* * *

"My king?"

Carwyn continued to rub Aithusa's snout. "Don't call me that."

Merlin chuckled, moving up to the dragon. Aithusa whined at him. He ran a hand along her side. "The warriors are in a tizzy wondering where you are."

"I have no doubt."

"You know you have to be more careful now."

Carwyn laughed. "When the most powerful sorcerer on earth is with me?"

Merlin smiled sadly.

"What is it?"

Merlin turned to lean against Aithusa's side. "I'm...leaving."

Carwyn bit his lip. He glanced at Merlin, his hair and beard long and white, his face wrinkled. He'd taken to wearing robes. Easier to get in and out of, he'd said. And it reminded him of Gaius; it seemed respectable for a man his age. "I thought you might some day." Carwyn had sensed a restlessness in the warlock ever since he returned from the Lake of Avalon with an empty gemstone. He was grateful Merlin had remained as long as he had.

"Camelot has a fine king. It's time you rule without me."

"Your counsel has always been valuable."

"And that's _why_ you don't need me. You've heard all the lessons I have to give."

Carwyn scratched at Aithusa's chin. _I just have to live them._ He eyed Merlin's determined expression, knowing he wouldn't be able to talk the warlock out of his decision. "Where will you go?"

"Everywhere. Arthur will need to know about the world and that means I have to. Books won't be knowledge enough."

"Will you return?"

Merlin grinned. "I'll come back. This isn't farewell forever."

Carwyn turned to him. "There's no man greater than you, Merlin, and there never will be again."

Merlin bowed his head. "I'm not sure..."

Carwyn caught his arm. "It's true." The warlock looked up at him. "I could have asked for no greater father." He threw his arms around the warlock as he had when a child. Merlin returned the embrace.

* * *

Merlin traversed well-known back hallways, silent as a mouse. He'd said his good-byes the night before, embracing the grandchildren whose sadness almost caused him to give up his plans. Percival shook his hand, still able at his age to about break his arm. Droyn, Moeris, Pello, and Phipp begged for final advice in leading the warriors. Carwyn had thrown him a banquet. Merlin had enjoyed it, but didn't want fanfare when he left. He didn't want to feel like he was being mourned.

He paused when he saw the side door. He shook his head as he approached. "Nyra."

The Druid grinned at him. He should have known he couldn't get away without her knowing it.

"Emrys," she greeted. She held out her hands and he gripped them. "Destiny."

Merlin nodded to the woman who knew better than any other why he had to depart. "Arthur will need me as Carwyn needs you. Watch over him."

"You know I will." She pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. He kissed her forehead. "Visit us."

"I will."

"May the road rise to meet your feet." She opened the side door for him. Merlin left, hearing it shut behind him.

He'd stepped into the gardens. Dawn seeped through gathering clouds. He readjusted the bag slung over his shoulders. He heard voices ahead of him and rounded a corner of greenery. Iona smiled lovingly at him.

"Old woman," he droned out.

"Old man," she echoed.

He wanted to tell her to stay, but she'd never be convinced to leave him, even for a time. The man beside her, on the other hand... "Blaise. You don't have to come."

Blaise, wrinkles of middle age just beginning to touch the corners of his eyes, argued with a question. "How many volumes have I written on Emrys?"

"Too many," Merlin muttered.

"And they hardly scratch the surface. You think I'd give up recording the travels of the great warlock of the age?" Blaise lifted his bag and gestured to the pack on his back. "I only hope I have enough parchment and ink."

Merlin shook his head. He set his staff against the ground. He looked up once more at the castle, to the tower room he'd stared out of the day he'd first arrived. How much had happened since then! He'd been embroiled in the fate of a man and kingdom, and he found now he regretted none of it. How could he? Camelot's Golden Age had been assured, its kingdom secured, and magic its protection.

Merlin turned away. "Let's go." He marched ahead, hearing Iona and Blaise follow him. _Someday, Arthur. Someday, I'll tell you everything._


	46. Return

**Epilogue**

Elaine Davis yawned as she drove along the motorway. The term had ended and she anticipated a relaxing holiday. She soon left busy roads behind and found herself the lone car traveling along for a time. A blue lorry passed by, startling her out of a reverie. _Pay attention_ , she reprimanded herself. She scrutinized the way ahead and was surprised to see a form walking to the side. She glanced through her window as she passed and the figure looked at her. It was an old man with long white hair and a beard, and if the bags he carried were any indication, one that had come to hard times.

Elaine continued to drive for a few meters, then slowed. She had never picked up anyone off the streets, but something about this old man stirred her compassion. She pulled over and stopped, rubbing at her temple. _Stupid, Elaine. This is stupid. Old men can be killers, too._ She looked over her shoulder through the back window. He was still coming this way. He looked worn. What would be the harm in asking?

Elaine pushed open her door and stepped out. "Excuse me." The man paused briefly, then continued towards her. "Can I drive you somewhere?" He stopped when he reached her.

"I'm going there," he mumbled, pointing back a little ways to a lake.

Elaine smiled. "Avalon. That's what my father always called it."

The old man's blue eyes lit up for a moment.

"I used to play in the ruins on the island."

The man raised his chin, his eyes grown strangely knowledgeable.

"I'll take you to a path."

He assessed her for a moment, then nodded. As she slipped back inside her car, he opened the passenger side door and joined her.

Elaine continued down the road. "I'm Elaine."

The man coughed, then answered. "Merlin."

Elaine raised her eyebrows. "Merlin? And you want to go to Avalon?"

He smiled. "And you're Elaine?" His eyes twinkled.

Elaine laughed. "My father was obsessed with the Arthurian legends. And Tennyson. Thus, Elaine... What about you?"

The old man shifted in his seat, fumbling with his bags. "My mother named me."

"Did she like the legends?"

"Probably," he murmured.

Elaine sensed she'd hit a nerve and backed off. She turned a corner, heading down a dirt road. "I've studied the legends for a long time."

"Have you?"

Elaine nodded. "I used to pretend I was Queen Guinevere, traipsing all over our home and insisting everyone obey my commands."

The old man chuckled.

"My father's obsession stuck with me. I'm studying history as a post-graduate." She thought back to her childhood as the lake appeared through the trees. "Sometimes I used to think I caught sight of people from the stories when I played here... Maybe even Merlin."

The old man grinned. Elaine smiled back. She pulled into a grassy clearing. "You'll have to walk from here." As he opened the door, she felt compelled to speak up again. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No."

"If you need anything, my family lives not too far away. There's a small town just down the road. If you ask for Elaine Davis, they'll know me."

The man nodded. "Thank you."

Elaine nodded, turning around and driving back down the road, feeling a little worried. She glanced in her mirror, wondering what an old man wanted at the lake and hoping he'd be safe.

* * *

Merlin hefted his bags, hiking down a narrow path. He smiled to himself, thinking of the woman who had just carted him around to the lake entrance. He knew her. He had seen her as a girl, playing on the island with her brothers. He shouldn't have let them, but their joy was so infectious he didn't interfere. And he knew her father.

Another year had come and gone. He hadn't traveled much this time. Instead he'd spent his days in his home—drinking tea, tending his garden, caring for his menagerie, and thinking. He hadn't pursued close relationships for some time now. This happened sometimes. His desire to be among people ebbed and flowed. When he got tired, he'd take a break for several years.

Merlin reached the edge of the lake. He dropped his bags and unrolled his sleeping bag, then turned to stare across the lake at the isle. "I'm here." He removed his knit cap and coat, glanced every which way, then spoke quietly. "Forbearnan." Fire lit in his palm and he set it to float in the air, providing needed warmth. He crouched down, opening a bag to pull out a book, then situated himself on his sleeping bag.

Merlin paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He eventually opened the book on his lap, turning to a blank page. Wouldn't Blaise have been proud of him. He'd lost track of the number of books he'd filled; the numerous shelves in his home contained far more than Blaise's works. He'd studied up on every subject, learning what only a man 1500 years old could.

A drop of water struck the blank page. Merlin looked up at darkening clouds and groaned. _Not rain._ He shoved the book quickly back into his pack as the rain picked up. He conjured a shield, keeping his small camp dry as raindrops sprinkled around him. He folded his arms across his chest.

A mist rose up, sweeping along the lake and kissing the shore. Merlin narrowed his eyes when he caught the form of a boat. Confound it! He'd not warned away a fisherman in years. He'd thought he'd secured the site with strong enough wards. Apparently not.

Merlin grumbled as he stood. Why did no one pay attention to "no trespassing" signs? This was private land— _his_ land. He'd purchased it two centuries ago just to legally secure it. He left the shielded camp, caring not a jot as the rain dampened him.

The boat moved closer and he could make out a man at its prow. He must have finished his catch; he held no rod, just stood straight and still. Proudly, Merlin thought. Well, he'd bring that pride down a peg or two.

Merlin stomped towards the shore. "You! This is private property!"

"Uh..."

"Take your boat and get out of here."

"I...don't think I can."

Merlin's eyebrows met. What nerve! He trudged to the edge of the lake. "Look. You have no right..." His words died in his throat as the boat came close enough for him to scrutinize its occupant—a blond man, formidable, broad-shouldered, square of jaw, blue eyes, and clothed in armor, a sword at his side. All thoughts fled from Merlin's mind as he gawked.

The boat hit the shore and the armored man leaped over its side, ignoring the fact his boots sloshed in the water. He walked up to Merlin, glancing back and forth. "I'm looking for someone."

Merlin tried to speak, but couldn't get out a word. Instead, he flung his arms around the man, holding him so tightly, afraid if he let go, all of this would become a dream.

"Um, hey, uh..." The man wriggled within his grasp. "Are you alright?"

Merlin's chest heaved and his vision blurred. The man used all his strength to wrench Merlin off of him. Merlin sank to one knee. His voice came out broken through tears. "My...king." He looked up.

The man narrowed his eyes, then cocked his head. He reached down and pulled Merlin up by his shoulders, searching his eyes. His own widened. "Merlin?"

Merlin nodded, the force of his emotion bringing forth a large sob. Now the man wrapped him in a bear hug. "Arthur," Merlin spoke the name he'd cherished so very many years. "Arthur."

Arthur didn't let go for several moments. When he did, his eyes were wet. "Merlin." He looked his manservant up and down. "What happened? How long have I been gone?"

Merlin whispered. "I've waited over 1500 years."

Arthur swayed. Merlin gripped his arm to steady him. "Fifteen... _hundred_?"

Merlin nodded, pulling Arthur to the camp which was still protected from the rain. They passed inside his shield. Arthur let himself be guided to the sleeping bag. Merlin gently pushed on his shoulders. Arthur sat, staring blankly.

Merlin knelt in front of him. "Arthur?"

"She said it had been a long time."

"Who?"

"A woman. She told me I had to return now. She warned me, but fifteen hundred years." Arthur's eyes darted back and forth. "That means Gwen and Leon and Gwaine and all of them..."

Merlin grasped Arthur's neck, forcing him to look at him. "They're gone."

Arthur locked eyes with him. Merlin's glowed gold for a moment as he infused strength into his friend. Arthur jumped and pulled back. "You're a sorcerer. I remember." He ran his hand through his hair. "I died." He glanced around. "Here."

"I won't hurt you."

Arthur smiled suddenly, breaking through his shock. "I know that. She told me to find you. That you'd explain everything, what I am and why I'm here." Arthur paused. "You look just like the sorcerer at Camlann. It _was_ you."

Merlin nodded.

"Wait... How are you alive?"

Merlin grinned. "That's a long story."

"Honestly, Merlin, seeing you like this..."

"Here. Gehiwe geongan." Merlin watched Arthur's eyes grow round in amazement. He knew what he'd see—an old man melding into a younger one, one he knew far better. It hadn't been that difficult to work out an aging spell in reverse.

Arthur held out a hand. "Merlin."

Merlin gripped his wrist. "I'm ready. I'll teach you everything. There's so much."

Arthur nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes that resolved into conviction. "So I am your pupil. Tell me."

Merlin sifted through memory. What to start with? There were so many stories and adventures, so much history and change. If he chose one starting place, his mind backtracked one step farther, then another and another. Finally, one memory rose above the others—a babe in his arms as he stood at a window bathed in moonlight.

"Merlin?"

Merlin smiled and met Arthur's gaze. "I want to tell you about your son."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** A huge thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, private messaged, and encouraged me as I wrote this fic! I never anticipated it becoming this long, but I've had a blast writing it and bringing some development and closure to Merlin's life. Thank you so much for reading and joining me in the journey!


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